Let no one speak to him." And then the young vice-president went out to meet the arriving police.
Mr.Robert Wade, slowly pacing along Fourteenth Street, had stopped to whisper a few words in Lilienthal's attentive ear.

There was a delectable "private view" which was arranged for two o'clock on this happy afternoon.
As the smug "dealer" bowed, his mind reverted to Mr.Wade's handsome employee, Randall Clayton, and then the picture episode, and the entrancing Magyar witch.
"I wonder, now," mused Lilienthal, "if young Clayton stole that pretty devil away from Fritz Braun! Braun was really crazy over her, it seems, and he, the black-hearted wretch, has gone over to Europe to hunt for her.

The pretty minx may be in hiding somewhere up on the West Side, with Clayton.

And yet I never saw or heard of them together again.

It may be he only wanted the picture, not the woman!" Mr.Lilienthal's laughter at his own joke was cut short by the racing past of four policemen and two detectives.