Despite his general knowledge of his old friend’s wealth, Colonel Howell was surprised at the sight of his host’s home. This, less than a half a dozen squares from the hotel, occupied a city block and was a mansion resembling a French chateau, built of the yellow stone of the country. In addition to an attractive fence of stone and iron, the extensive yard was surrounded on all sides by a wind-break hedge of tall and uniform swamp cedars.
When the car dashed up the asphalt drive, Colonel Howell only turned toward his host and smiled. But while his elders alighted, under the porte cochere, Paul did not smile. Waiting for his father and their guest to disappear into the magnificent home, he sprang into the motor again and said to the chauffeur: “Drive to the King George Hotel.”
At dinner that evening there was a message from young Paul, excusing himself on the ground of an engagement. When Mr. Zept heard this, he excused himself to telephone to the garage. When he rejoined his guest, his face was again stern and hard, for he knew what his son’s engagement meant.
Dinner over, the ranchman and Colonel Howell made their excuses to Mrs. Zept and to Paul’s young sister and retired to the library. Here Mr. Zept used no ceremony and at once confided to his old friend the greatest trouble of his life. He told how he had brought his son home from Paris because of his wayward ways and how he had found these even more pronounced than he feared.
“He isn’t a bad boy,” explained his father, “and the only trouble he has I think I can correct by home influence.” He even explained where his son was at that moment and did not attempt to conceal his mortification. “It isn’t in the blood,” he went on, “but it’s Paris and the opportunity he had there.”
Colonel Howell had been deeply moved by his friend’s talk, and when the latter used the word “opportunity,” his sober face suddenly lit up.
“That’s it,” he exclaimed, “you’ve hit it. I think I can read the boy like a book. ‘Opportunity’ to go wrong is what did it. I’ve an idea. Cut out this ‘opportunity’ and I think you’ve solved the question.”
“That’s what I want to do,” replied Mr. Zept, with a sigh, “and I’ve been trying to make his home take the place of the saloons, but,” and he shook his head, “you see where he is now.”
“All right,” exclaimed Colonel Howell. “That doesn’t need to discourage you. I think we’ll have to send him where there isn’t any Paris and where there aren’t any cafes.”
“What do you mean?” broke in the disturbed father.