The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-12-06
Copyright, 1915, by Lippincott's Magaz ine- Copyright, 1915, by McBride, Mast & Co.
lContiouedl

Copyright, 1915, by W
 lContinuedl
 Soames ,shuddered coldly.
 "You can rely upon me, Mir. Gianap- olis," he protested, ''to do absolutely what you absolutely! I am ruined man, and know it-I know it. My only hope is that you will give me a chance"
 .You shall have every chance, Soames." replied Gianapolis, "every chance"
 And so Soames passed into the serv- ice of. the mysterious MT. King. His skin was dyed so that he looked like mulatto, and he was given the name of Lucas.
 rs
 Carefully fiicking particle of ash from a fold of his elegant, silk lined cloak, a most distinguished looking gen. tleman stepped out from the Hotel As toria. He wore, in addition to grace full cloak, which was lined with silk of cardinal red, soft black hat, rather wide brimmed and dented in highly 2 artistic manner, and irreproachable. evening clothes. His linen was i'm maculate, and no valet in London could have surpassed the perfect knotting of his tie. His pearl studs were elegant and valuable, and single eyeglass was swung about his neck by thin gold chain. The white gloves, which fitted perfectly, were new, and if the glossy boots were rather long in the toe cap from an English point of view the gold headed malacca cane which the newcomer carried was quite de rigueur.
 The strong, clean shaven face calls for no description here; 1t was the face of M. Gaston Max. The rain was falling in steady downpour, but M. Max stood there un- !. der an awning softly hummfng little French melody until taxicab crawled into view around the corner.
 He whfstled shrilly through his teeth ---the whistle of a gamin-and the cab man, glancing. up and perceiving him, pulled around into the turning and drew up by the awning.
 M. Max entered the cab.
  The cabman backed out into Greek street and drove of. This was the hour whsaa the theaters were begin ming to eject their throngs, and out < side one of them where popular con- edy had celebrated its three hundred and fftieth performance the press of cabs and private cars was so great that M. Max found himself delayed within sight of the theater foyer
 Those patrons of the comedy who had omitted to order vehicles or who did not possess private conveyances found themselves in a quandary to- night, and among those thus unfortu- nately situated M. Max, watching the scene with interest, detected lady whom he knew-none other than the delightful American whose conversa- tion had enlivened his recent Journey from Paris, Miss Denise Ryland. She was accompanied by charming com panion, who, although she was wrap ped up in a warm theater cloak, seem- ed to be shivering disconsolately as she and her friend watched the 1ntermina- ble stream of vehicles filing up before the theater and cutting them off from any chance of obtaining a cab for themselves.
 M. Max acted promptly.
 Drive into that side turninge he di- rected the cabman, leaning out of the window. The cabman followed his di- rections, and M. Max, needless of the indictment weather, descended from the cab, dodged actively between the head lamps of very large car and the tail light of ia taxi and stood lowing be- fore the two ladies, his hat pressed to his bosom with one gloved hand, the other, ungloved, resting upon the gold knob of the malacca.
 Why" cried Miss Ryland, If it isn't M. Gaston! My dear M. Gaston, come under the awning or'-her head was wagging furiously-"you will be simply drowned
 M. Max smilingly complied.
 "This is M. Gaston,' said Denise Ryland, turning to her companion, "the French gentleman whom I met in the train from Paris. This is Miss Helen Cumberly, and know you two will get on famously."
 M. Max acknowledged the presenta- tion with few simple words which served to place the oddly met trio upon a mutually easy footing. He was par excellence the polished cosmopolitan ] man of the world.
 Fortunately l saw your dilemma, 9 he explained. q have a cab on the corner wonder, and 1t is entirely at y&ur service"
 "Now, that is real good of you," de c1ared Denise Ryland q think you're "a brick"
 "But, my dear Miss Ryland," cried Helen, i've cannot possibly deprive M. Gaston of his cab on night like thisv'
 T had hoped" said the Frenchman, lowing gallantly, "that this most hap py reunion might not be allowed to pass uncelebrated. Tell me if I in- trlide upon other plans, because am speaking self1shly. But I was on my way to lonely supper, and, apart from the great pleasure which your company would afford me, you would be such very good Samaritans if you would join me"