dining-room in which they found themselves. They took off their caps
and held them in their hands. A cloud of gloom fell upon them and both
started when a door at one end of the room crashed open, emitting a
comet-like waiter who streaked across the floor and vanished through
another door on the other side.

There had been three of these lightning passages before the seekers
mustered the acumen to hail a waiter. He turned, looked at them
suspiciously, and then approached with soft, catlike steps, as if
prepared at any moment to turn and flee.

"Say," began Key, "say, do you know my brother? He's a waiter here."

"His name is Key," annotated Rose.

Yes, the waiter knew Key. He was up-stairs, he thought. There was a
big dance going on in the main ballroom. He'd tell him.

Ten minutes later George Key appeared and greeted his brother with the
utmost suspicion; his first and most natural thought being that he was
going to be asked for money.

George was tall and weak chinned, but there his resemblance to his
brother ceased. The waiter's eyes were not dull, they were alert and
twinkling, and his manner was suave, in-door, and faintly superior.
They exchanged formalities. George was married and had three children.
He seemed fairly interested, but not impressed by the news that Carrol
had been abroad in the army. This disappointed Carrol.

"George," said the younger brother, these amenities having been