White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1927-06-17

better physical trim than he had been
for a dozen years. Barnes always saw
himself in a heroic light. He hoped
the thing would be staged so that his
old cronies might see 1t. They would
never believe that he could keep so fit
after the scandalous rumors that had
been spread about him.
Naturally there would be expense
money. 1t would be q delightful ex-
perience to pay Lippsky his deferred
rent In nickels and cents and watch
him scrambling feverishly for the
coins among poison ivy. And he would
be able to send his daughter q decent
present at last. Poor NIta, whom he
had not seen for years, brought up by
Jealous relatives far from his care.
The adventure might lead to amazing
things.
Presently these brilliant prospects
faded. He was conscious that his only
home was In Lippskys grotesquely
furnished house. Adventures with
glorious endlngs offered themselves
only to youth. He sighed a little.
Then he smiled. After all, he had the
hundred dollars and the prospect of
good dinner.
Floyd Malet under the name of
NJ. Floyd, was earning a poor living
by teaching drawing in Philadelphia
private schools. The man who had
hoped to see his name associated with
Rodin and Meunier was forgotten by
all save the few who had seen in him
the signs of genius. Malet was man
of middle size, thin and haggard.
Once or twice fastidlous pupils had
complained that he paid too little at
tention to his personal appearance.
Milman's letter came by late mail. At
first the sculptor was inclined to think
1t an advertising scheme of some sort.
The Lower Fifth avenue address was
thick with loft and office buildings.
Like Bradney, he went to library
and looked up Milman. The genealog-
lcal department gave him ample data.
The strangers letter held out the
promise of temporary relief from an
intolerable life. There was money
for the trip and enough over to live
for many weeks as he had lately
learned to live. He packed his grip.
thankful he had saved q suit of eve
ming clothes.
There Is something vivifying about
the air of Manhattan. 1t had its ef-
feet on the three men bound for Peter
Milman's house. Bradney held up his
head again and Malet lost his droop
Of depression. Neeland Barnes, walk
ing briskly down the avenue, passed
clubs which had dropped him on &C.
count Of nonpayment Of dues and felt
himself within measurable distance Of
reelection His military mustache
and fine carriage made him a marked
figure, and he liked the limelight.
AS he neared the Milman house he
wondered what his fellow guests
would be like. In other years no phys
icists had been numbered among his
acquaintance. He was not quite GER
tain what physicist was. AS to
sculptors, he had met one in Rome,
but he was marquis. Sculptors were
probably all right. He was treasured
by remembering that the wife of
former polo pal had her own studio.
But he would probably have to don't,
nate the conversation with Peter Mil
man and talk of old New York society.
He must be careful not to mention the
Daynes. The runaway wife had been
q Dayne.
Wedged in between tall buildings,
the Milman house looked squat and
unlmpressive. Yet Barnes gazed at
it with respect. To be able to retain
it spelled wealth. Lesser men would
have sold at profit and moved up
town. What this millionaire might
want with Neeland Barnes was de-
llghtful mystery. He raped loudly
with the brass knocker.
A. few minutes earlier Floyd Malet
had stood appalled, at the SNUG ugli-
ness of the building. He did not think
with any sympathy Of that generation,
represented by the builder, which had
distrusted elegance and loved what
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