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"Who--o?" It was not one who asked; the whos came like shrapnel; and when, not knowing what else to do, I smiled as one dying, there went up a wail of mirth that froze my blood and then heated it to a fever. The company howled. They rolled over one another, crying, "Charlie Toliver!--Charlie Toliver!--Oh, Lord, where's Scott Gholson!--Charlie Toliver!"--and leaped up and huddled down and moaned and rolled and rose and looked for me.

"Suppose it wasn't either."

"Well, Smith, on his suggestion approved by Major Harper, I have detailed another clerk to the Major."

"I naturally thought," resumed I, with a smile meant to refer to the blond dancer, "that the madam must be away somewhere."

"No," he murmured, "they're late; we've been waiting for them."

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