CHAPTER XXVII.
POINTS OUT HER BROTHER'S DUTY.
In the afternoon of the day that followed the publication of the confession Flummers minced his way into the Press Club.

He wore a suit of new clothes, and although the weather was warm, he carried a silk-faced overcoat.

Before any one took notice of him he put his coat and hat on the piano, and then, with a gesture, he exclaimed: "_Wow!_" "Why, here's Kittymunks! Helloa, Kit!" one man shouted.

"Have you identified Brooks ?" some one else cried, and a roar followed.
For a moment Flummers stood smiling at this raillery; then suddenly, and as though he would shut out a humiliating scene, he pressed his hands across his eyes.

But his hands flew off into a double gesture--into a gathering motion that invited every one to come into his confidence, and solemnly he pronounced these words: "He made a monkey of me." "I should say he did!" Whittlesy cried.