What Happened at the Grain King’s Palace.
CHAPTER XVII.
COLONEL BOB WAITS FOR HIS MESSAGE.
Ablaze with light is the palatial mansion of the millionaire operator. Sweet strains of music float out upon the misty moonlight, and are lost in dying cadence upon the waters of the great lake, that gently lap the pebbly shore so near the stately pile.
All that wealth can do to beautify and adorn the house has been done with a liberal hand. In these days of magic all one has to do is to press the golden button, and master minds accomplish the rest.
The parlors look like fairy bowers. Green plants and rare exotics are everywhere, and the taste with which they are placed reflects credit on the decorator artist. Among these scenes wander many of Chicago’s gallant sons and fair daughters.
Dorothy as the hostess is as lovely a vision as the eye of man ever beheld, and her father looks the wealthy merchant prince to perfection, though perhaps one might see an uneasy gleam in his eyes at times, and he glances toward the door frequently, as though expecting someone of more than ordinary importance.
The gay reception is in full swing when Aleck and Wycherley arrive. Both are of course in evening dress, for the ex-actor under the circumstances has wisely invested the loan made by his companion. As the future possible partner of the great Samson Cereal, he must make a creditable entree into society. Besides, a dress suit is a good nucleus for a loan at “my uncle’s” on a rainy day.
Once inside they make their way to where Miss Dorothy, assisted by a lady friend, receives, and meet a hearty welcome from both herself and her father. If Aleck was far gone before, his case is hopeless now, for the young woman presents such a picture of feminine beauty that he is even awed to think of his boldness in daring to aspire to win her. Still, deep down in his heart, he secretly exults to remember that less than twenty-four hours previous he held all this loveliness in his arms. Aleck is quiet, a thorough gentleman always, and for reasons of his own he keeps near Mr. Cereal. Knowing the secret of the other, he feels that he has a deep interest there.
As to Wycherley, he makes himself right at home, and being introduced moves among the guests with charming freedom. An old traveler of his stamp can adapt himself to either terminus of “society,” and under other circumstances, should fortune throw him among a herd of tramps, or into a camp of darkies, he would be found the jolliest fellow of them all, telling tough yarns, singing songs, and picking the banjo. A wonderfully versatile chap is this same Wycherley. To see him now, as he saunters gracefully about, one would believe him a representative of Chicago’s highest circles, and much curiosity is aroused as to who he may be. His bearing, his name, both are very distingué, and many speculations are indulged in as to whether he is from Boston or New York.