to be alone. There were always guests, and on special occasions
there might be three or four score. They went whirling about the
country in their autos; they rode and drove; they played games,
outdoor and indoor, or gambled, or lounged and chatted, or wandered
about at their own sweet will. Coming to one of these places was not
different from staying at a great hotel, save that the company was
selected, and instead of paying a bill, you gave twenty or thirty
dollars to the servants when you left.

It was a great palace of pleasure, in which beautiful and graceful
men and women played together in all sorts of beautiful and graceful
ways. In the evenings great logs blazed in the fireplace in the
hall, and there might be an informal dance--there was always music
at hand. Now and then there would be a stately ball, with rich gowns
and flashing jewels, and the grounds ablaze with lights, and a full
orchestra, and special trains from the city. Or a whole theatrical
company would be brought down to give an entertainment in the
theatre; or a minstrel show, or a troupe of acrobats, or a menagerie
of trained animals. Or perhaps there would be a great pianist, or a
palmist, or a trance medium. Anyone at all would be welcome who
could bring a new thrill--it mattered nothing at all, though the
price might be several hundred dollars a minute.

Montague shook hands with his host and hostess, and with a number of
others; among them Billy Price who forthwith challenged him, and
carried him off to the shooting-gallery. Here he took a rifle, and
proceeded to satisfy her as to his skill. This brought him to the
notice of Siegfried Harvey, who was a famous cross-country rider and
"polo-man." Harvey's father owned a score of copper-mines, and had
named him after a race-horse; he was a big broad-shouldered fellow,