“There is something strange about that young fellow,” murmured the clerk as he watched the object of suspicion vanish into the lift. “Though if he is a friend of Whitney Barnes,” the clerk added after a pause, “he ought to be all right. I think I’ll look him up in the Social Register.”
Which he did––without enlightenment.
CHAPTER II.
MR. HOGG ENTERS THE LISTS.
Having arrived in the grill room of the Ritz coincident with a devastating eruption of grapefruit, Mrs. Elvira Burton set out forthwith to demonstrate that her unexpected advent was likewise somewhat in the nature of a lemon. Even her smile was acid as she spread out her rich sable furs and sat down at the table with her two pretty nieces.
“I have just received a letter from Mr. Hogg, Helen,” she began with a rush, regardless of the anguish that was still evident in Helen’s lovely grapefruit bespattered eyes.
A twinge of something more than mere physical pain twisted the young girl’s features at the mention of the name––Hogg.
“Oh, auntie,” she almost sobbed, “can’t you leave Mr. Hogg out of my luncheon. We had him last night for dinner and again this morning for breakfast.”