As his cab swung into Riverside Drive from Seventy-second Street the sight which greeted him was one of startling splendour.
Bivens's yacht lay at anchor in the river just in front of his house. She was festooned with electric lights from the water line to the top of her towering steel masts. From every shroud and halyard hung garlands of light, and the flags which flew from her peaks were illumined with waving red, white and blue colours. From the water's edge floated the songs of Venetian gondoliers imported from Italy for the night's festival, moving back and forth from the yacht.
The illumination of the exterior of the Bivens house was remarkable. The stone and iron fence surrounding the block, which had been built at a cost of a hundred thousand dollars, was literally ablaze with lights. Garlands of tiny electric bulbs had been fastened on every iron picket, post and cross bar, and the most wonderful effect of all had been achieved by leading these garlands of light along the lines of cement in the massive granite walls on which the iron stanchions rested. The effect was a triumph of artistic skill, a flashing electric fence built on huge boulders of light.
The house was illumined from its foundations to the top of each towering minaret with ruby-coloured lights. Each window, door, cornice, column and line of wall glowed in soft red. The palace gleamed in the darkness like a huge oriental ruby set in diamonds.
Stuart passed up the grand stairs through a row of gorgeous flunkies and greeted his hostess.
Nan grasped his hand with a smile of joy.
"You are to lead me in to dinner, Jim, at the stroke of eight."
"I'll not forget," Stuart answered, his face flushing with surprise at the unexpected honour.
"Cal wishes to see you at once. You will find him in the library."
Bivens met him at the door.