He shook hands with Jephson and with Thacker.
"Good-by, Richard," said the latter. "I'm really fond of old Jephson here. He's been my friend in need—he mustn't lose. I trust you, my boy."
"I won't disappoint you," Dick Minot promised. A look of seriousness flashed across his face. "Miss Cynthia Meyrick changes her mind only over my dead body."
He paused for a second at the door, and his eyes grew suddenly thoughtful.
"I wonder what she's like?" he murmured.
Then, with a smile toward the two men left behind, he went out and down that stenographer-bordered land to San Marco.
CHAPTER II
AN EVENING IN THE RIVER
Though San Marco is a particularly gaudy tassel on the fringe of the tourist's South, it was to the north that Mr. Richard Minot first turned. One hour later he made his appearance amid the gold braid and dignity of the Plaza lobby.
The young man behind the desk—an exquisite creature done in Charles Dana Gibson's best manner—knew when to be affable. He also knew when not to be affable. Upon Mr. Minot he turned the cold fishy stare he kept for such as were not guests under his charge.