Evening star., 1911-08-13

IN orchestra and a whole lot of gilt chairs.
| figured it out today that | was about thir-
tv-seven thousand dollars in the hole up to
date. The Count had come high; but Marg
had to have him, and so long as she was
happy and | could keep out of Jail didn't
care. Knowing that it was love match,
and the Count wasn't after Marg's money,
it didn't matter. | could stand it.
THAT'S the way it stood this morning,
when | went down town to my grind.
Florists all over the house, men mailing down
canvas on the floors, tootmcn IN everybodys
way, lot of extra maids and servants fuss
ing about and the caterers stewing things in
the kitchen! | was glad to clear out and get
down to my Office where | could be quiet
Worked like Chinaman all day. and tried
to forget we were marrying into the nobility.
Il was so nervous and excited, though,
that | couldn't stand eating lunch IN a res
taurant where should be likely to meet any
of my friends: SO dropped into one of those
little cheap, quicklunch, ham -and-egg places
under the Brooklyn Bridge. ordered some
weak tea and milk toast. and was trying to
read the paper when heard a voice that
simply paralyzed me. 1t was behind flimsy
wooden partition in the kitchen, and it was
yelling Draw one!' or something like that.
Perhaps it was Ham and overl'
Then waiter in a dirty suit came out OF
the doorway. with about sixteen dishes bal
anced along his arm, and an apron on. 1t
was the Count Capricorni. Yes, that's
right. That miserable waiter was the man
that about eighteen servants and six hun
dred guests were preparing for up at Wych
erley Court. And | had spent something
like thirty-seven thousand dollars so that he
wouldn't be ashamed of Marguerite.'
Morgan stopped and smiled sadly. Il
don't think he saw me at all. He turned to
put some things on table, and | bolted
without waiting for my lunch. You see how
I'm fixed, don't you, | thought that if he
did show up tonight, 50 that we could get
the reception over with, | could get rid of
him tomorrow, forever. But he didnt come,
Fenton shook his head. mo" he an
swered. "and | don't think you II ever see
him again. | guess he's done for, poor fel-
low!'
MORGAN construed the remark accord
ing to his own lights, probably think
ing that the Count had suspected that his
real identity had been discovered Fenton
did not explain; he dared not say that he
was virtually sure that the bogus Count
Capricorni lay dead in an Office on the thr-
teenth story of the St. Paul Building. He
wanted to forget what he had seen-at least
until he had performed his duty. The rev.
erie ii threw him into was broken by Nor
gan.
"You see what | was up against.
"Alust have been embarrassing, said
Fenton.
Embarrassing Well, | guess. When
eleven O'Clock came. and he hadn't come, |
told Marg all about it, and she nearly went
crazy. What are we going to do she said
-as if | knew. There we were again with
out the guest of honor; Hamlet, with the
Prince left out. The place was beginning to
fill up, and everybody was asking questions
We'll, what did you do?" said Fenton, be-
ginning to be amused.
"Marg was splendid; she took right hold
of it. She told me that I'd simply got to get
somebody to impersonate the Count or she
would be disgraced forever and meanwhile
she'd tell everybody that the Count had
been delayed in Washington and would ar
rive at midnight. That would give me an
hour to work 1t out. | confess | was fright
ened to death. | didn't like to deceive peo-
pie; but what else could do. Marg would
be insane if didn't save her reputation.
well, the only person | could think of
was Harold Ringrose, a college mate of mine.
We often played bezique together. He's
manufacturing chemist, down on Vcsey-st.
| rung up his house; but they said he was
down town | tried his Office-no answer