The lonely widows of robber barons found him irresistible and he was the guest of many a fine table. “Then assuredly!” said Manning. Moving swiftly to the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door at random and entered a large room, which looked to have been a saloon, judging from the faded gilt and crimson wall-paper, a mirror above the fireplace which was surrounded by an ornate gilded frame, now sadly tarnished, and a worn Chippendale sofa with striped upholstery and tasselled cushions. . “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. To reach the door they had to pass the end of the table, and behind the chair where Mr. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. Meysey Hill—never your wife. ‘Oh, peste.
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