"STAR" TALES.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 10175, 9 June 1911, Page 4

"STAR" TALES.

THE AGENT IN ADVANCE.

(Bv F. M. WHITE )

[All Rights H v:.servkh J

CHAPTER 1. ' Mr Roger N. Copper shook his head reprovingly at Miss Pore. I hey vei e all alike, he said all for the got-jante-quick sort or thing, which is •' Weakness with stage beauties both m England and Amferica. It Copper could jbelp her he would. fie was by far the most ingenious and brilliant J ress agent America had ever produced, the fame of liis exploits had travelled far. He was in England now on behalf oi 'one of the dazzling planets in the 'musical comedy sky. and the incidental looming of Miss ( only Dove was in jfche nature of a side show, bhe had beauty and she had talent, and now flier opening had come. To leap into fcame at one bound was the primary idea, to refuse an of £IOO a wook for the mavonul side of tilings. \ "Now. vou lca-vr ii to me." Copp»r *aid. "'I shan't charge you anything, ibecause I've got a bet on this with a journalist friend doubts if my ■methods will go here. ' . -'•But. the 'Daily Flash," Miss Xtove began eagerly, "has been so kind feus " • Copper waved his cigarette contemptuously. A lit i!e ash dropped on fthe carpet. I "Oh, that!" he said. " I hope J ihaven't set fire to your rug. My deai girl, the ha'penny rags are no good to IBs. Why, I could ii' 1 them with standing ' pars' about your smile and your jteetJi and all the rest of it. It's a baper like the ' Record ' that i'm after. 'oTiere is no Press nqent this side who Van get- past the editor. Maxwell Flyte. 'nhless it is myself." lie added modestly. "I've 'done it twice." "Then you think/' Miss Dove said feagerly, "you feel certain " i' "No I don't, dear child, but I'll Jjftve a try. Flyte is very shy of me £just. now. * He's sore, too. But I fancy I can see a -sray to give you a hoom In the 'R-ecord s—a 5 —a sure life. What I £avo in my mind is something that will Jjoist you to the very top. Once there, you'll stay. Only you must put yourself entirely in my hands and dc exactly as I tell you. My story of the plucky little lady who heat off six burglars with a revolver was pretty good, but I flatter myself that 1 have sketched out % better thinrx for yon over vour part in this new piece—" 'I he Red Light.' isn't it? Now listen, carefully, and do exactly as I tell you." The cautious'and immaculate. Flyte. however, was not going to be caught again. When Copper mentioned Miss Dove's name at the first favourable opportunity, he was cold. They happened to he dining at the Spitz together at the same table: Miss Dove and her manager were close by. "Don't know her.' he said with chill aloofness. "A pity/' said Copper airily. ' very pice girl and exceedingly clever actress, too.' . , , "I know" it, Flyte murmured Tvartlv. " They all are." i " No. but upton my word she really ••is, Flyte. lam perfectly certain that I you Will agree with me that we're exceedingly short just now of great eroo[tiojxal actresses, and I tell you that the I girl a Du&o. I don't eav she looks [Jfcj; hut she is, all the same. I hav© joaly got one fault to find with her. She lis .* bit too grasping. It shocks me ' tto kefc that spirit in a great artist. {WW just looTc how she served me. I Went out; of my "way to get her an engagement when she iirst came over ffiefe; in fact, between you and me,.l fadratnoed her passage money. It was Onooarrenient at the time., but I wanted fchflgirl to have her chance. Of course, T dWi work at philanthropy, as you imo'w, fend whefl I got her a good eiishe refused point blank to pay my pommfesxHi, Sne* laughed at tmA ud asked me where my contract Was. Ai*d Leopold backed her up, too. rffie found her money to fight the case land he offered, her this part in ' The j Llgjit.' But you beard all about I "'Kot a word of it," Flyte said. His , tone -wag studiously indifferent. '' And did you win?" 1 ""Win 1" Copper cried angrily. "Of .course I didn'C The case was tried •Wofe a special jury. Trust old Leo.pold to see to that. Upon my word, it was as good a# a play. Act! I (should think she did. Why, dear toy, she hadn't been in the witnessbox two minutes before I knew it was '■all up with me, The Judge as good aa .told me I was a greedy, grasping Yankee, and I lost mv case with costs. I .guess that little nutter is going to see me at the end of a hundred dollars. ' And upon my word, the girl was so ' clever that I can't find it in my heart to be angry with her." "I suppose not," eaid Flyte indifferently. But yonl will pardon me if I venture to suggest that you haven't conducted this affair with your usuai ;astuteness. If the lady is as clever a* yon say, you have lost a splendid opportunity for a few of those daint\ little romances of yours which appeal to find such ready hospitality in a certain section of the Press." \ Copper sat there crumbling liisbreac

moodily. "Yes-; you've get me there," he admitted. " I don't often make mistakes, jbut hang it, I can't stand ingratitude. Just mark tlie way she is looking at line. I might be some thief who has ' just traed to pick her pocket." Miss Cecily Dove rose at the same 'moment, and moved gracefully in the [direction of the door. Flyte could that,her face was flushed slightly; then !®he grew quite cold and pale again as I Copper came within the focus of her .dark eye*. She tossed her head slightly, she held her nose daintily poised; [the whole thing was a little comedy in ita way. A moment later and she had gone, accompanied by the -faithful LeojjwJd, her manager. 1 "What do you think of that?" Copper asked. " I guess there's something '.about me that she doesn't like the 'flavour of. And that is not i!i~ worst ©f it. That case of mine will bo in all Ithe papers to-morrow, and 1 shan't tear the last of it for h mouth. 1 jtried to square the hut I guess ■your reporters have got a sense <n ha'tfnour in considerable excess of their Impecnniosity; and that's saying a good deal. They said it was too good an pppartunity to be lost. Say, do yoi. rojport those sort of things!'" >, Flyt? rather thought they did; at #ny rate, he was quite sure that on this y>ecasion they would. And he felt he cquM answer at any rate for the r' Retard." Despite lis superittfty, he was quite a human young inan, and he was still smarting at the jway in which Copper had got. the 'nest bf him oil tw> occasions, 110 returnee to his offioe presently, arid looked iutc '[the room of the news editor on the waj |o his own. The news editor had hearc - >ll about the Dove-Copper episode. H; |>asaed it on to one of the " Subs," witi instructions to cut it down. I didn't think you were interested In such matters," he muttered. " Suppose a quarter of a column would b( sufficient."

"No, I think I will have ife at length,'' Flyte said. "It ought to be amusing. 1 should like to have a look at the proof when it is set up." Flyte turned into his office, leaving his assistant wondering. Flyte. as a rule, was not dvwi to these lighter rtioocls. He smiled to himself presently when he came to read the proof. It bad been fairly well done, and none of the humorous points appeared to be omitted. The editor touched it up himself and then sent it along to the com-posing-room with a request that it should have a prominent position. He felt that Copper had delivered himself into his hands; possibly, when his report came fco be read, other editors would not be quite so ready to open their columns to Copper in future. It really was a case of the engineer being hoist with, his own petard. " Copper lost a fine chance here.' 1 Flyte murmured to himself. " Miss Dove seems exactly to be the sort of girl cakwited to give him the chance for a fine display of his peculiar genius. At any rate, he is ouite right about the girl's abilities. I shouldn't wonder if she made a sensation in this new drama. ] have a great mind to go to the theatre' to-morrow night and do the play myself.' 4.

CHAPTER 11. The pHiK-rs were full of rumours, of cnursfj. Preliminary articles relating to the new play at the Comus occupied space which otherwise might have been given to European crises, or some such frivolous trifle of that kind. An important part of the parliamentary report had been out down in most papers to make room for an account of Miss Dove's dresses, and in more than one quarter a long biography of the author of the, new play had been given prominence. This was all the more in evidence because the, great coming playwright was a Russian with an unpronounceable name, distantly related to Tolstoi, and at one time himself a prominent anarchist. According to hints, the play dealt with the inner history of anarchism, and. extraordinary revelations were anticipated. One sensational morning paper published a- letter from the playwright (jiving accounts of various threats which had been made against his life if he did not instantly abandon the entire production of this new drama. He had applied for police protection, aud the matter was now heing investigated at Scotland Yard. The consequence of all this was that on Saturday morning 110 single ticket in the house remained unsold. At daybreak a large company had already assembled outside the pit door, with tno heroic intention of staying there until the theatre was opened at night-. As was only natural, Miss Oecily Dove came in for a good deal of attention. S r tie ; was understood to be terribly frighten- ! Ed and upset by these dark and distant j in utter in gs ; but she was determined at i anv hazard to fulfil her contract, i Maxwell Flyte smiled to himself as Ihe read these' things in the morning papers. At any other time he would 1 have traced the fine Roman hand of j Copper in all this, but- then Copper had j missed the prize of a lifetime, and nc 1 doubt at present he was grinding his ! teeth in his anger at the thought thai 1 he had thrown away the chance of makj iug a considerable sum of money. Pes- ! sibly the whole thing was genuine, and I Flyte passed in a tolerating .spirit e j paragraph or two on the same alluring ' topic which had crept into his own 1 paper. So long as he knew that Coppei j had nothing to do with it he felt com j parativelv easy in mind. As a matter of fact he was_interested" in spite of himself. He, dined earlj and went down to the Comus with th< intention of doing the criticism himself The houso was packed from floor tf ceiling, and when presently Miss Dov< appeared in one of the Parisian confections she met with a reception calcuiated to place her entirely at hei ease JJeyoml a doubt the girl was ai actress. She needed no mgemoui miffing on Copper's part, but then, ai Flyte "reflected,' it is not always genmi which appeals to the theatrical audi ence. As to the plav, it was welodraim of the frankest kind, ft was cheap aiu tawdry at that, but the sentiment were full and mellow, and certainly di< not lack origmaiitv. thiougi the first act there was a disturbance from the gallery, which led to the ox pulsion of -some' half-dozen picturesque looking Foreigners, who were under stood to be anarchists of the deepes dye. The play was internipted durinj tnis exciting interlude, -find it was ap 1 parent that the charming heroine wa visibly disturbed.

The curtain fell presently to round* of applause; then there came an exceedingly long wait. feigns, too, thatsomething was radically a\ anting, < presently a strange rumour began to thrill the house. Everybodv thote turned towards the stage as the manager made his way before the curtain. """I have to crave your indulgence, ladies and gentlemen." he said, with a. voice hoarse with excitement, but a verv terrible thing has happened. Dove lias disappeared from tne theatre! She bad gone into her dress-ing-room to change, and from that time to now nothing lias been seen of her. We groatlv fenr that she nas been kidnapped . 'During the day we have had several threaten ing letters, warning us what would happen if wo persisted with the pi av. but naturally we ignored these. We have no alternative now hut to abandon the performance, and all monev will he returned at the box--opn,l m?v s.'.y that 'The lied Light' will appear as usual to-morrow night, and thai/ ii'.t'".e .services of ATisK Dove are not available, Miss Sheerforth, the understudy, will appear in her place. 1 nave no more to sa t "\. except to express my regret at this teirible outrage.'' The excited audience streamed towards the doors the whole theatre was in an uproar. hlyte pushed his way out with the rest j_ even he was feeling the excitement of the moment. Tt seemed almost impossible to him that such a thing could happen in the heart of London, but then crimes more daring were a daily occurrence. A group of anarchists who would have no compunction in murdering a reigning sovereign would make light indeed of abducting an actress. iTlyte pushed his way "round to the stage door and asked to see the manager. All his journalistic instincts were aroused now; he was caught up in the whirlwind of the moment. He was not surprised to find he had been forestalled; indeed, it looked as if a meeting of the Institute of Journalists was being held in the manager's room. They were all talking at once, and the manager was I making a determined effort to dominate the din.

Gradually they drifted away one by 1 one, and Flyte found himself alone with j the manager. • j "How 011 earth did it happen?" he asked. •' Oh, .don't- ask roe," the worried manager cried. "As a matter of fact. 1 am as much in the dark as anybody else. For some reason or another the anarchist tribe seem to have made up their minds that this play was going J to expos? their schemes. To a certain i extent that's true enough. Of course, j we didn't mind their threats; in fact, j I don't- mind admitting that- we used j them for the purposes of advertisement. It's been done before." "So I have been told." Flyte said dryly "Well. Miss Dove went off to her dressing-room to change, as you already know. A note was handed to her dresser which called for immediate attention, and when the woman war, out of the room the thing was done. And. mind you, it is not anything like as difficult- as you might think. The stage-door keeper was lured' to the telephone hy what appeared to be an urgent message, and therefore the way was clear along a short passage to Miss Dove's dressing-room j which is comparatively close to the street. The stage-door is in Rule Lane, which is always deserted by nine o'clock. A couple of resolute men could have easily pushed their way into the dress-ing-room and taken Miss Dove by surprise. The whole tiling could have been accomplished in twenty seconds. As to the rest o all you want outside in the lane is a motor, and there you are. Mind you, 1 don't say that 1 am right., but that's my theory, and you can make the best of it. Scotland Yard people think the same thing, and T nave just heard that a- motor was seen in the lane about the same time that the curtain fell on the first act. I wish I oould tell you some more. Of course, this will be the making of the play, hut at the same time it is a most disturbing thing, and nobody regrets it more than T do. And now you really must excuse me, Mr Flyte." Flyte took the hint and went his way. Late as it was, the streets were full of newsboys, "tearing damp newspaper placards, the name of Miss Dove seemed to fill the air. All these late sheets professed to have the very last intelligence: they appeared to be snnguine that the police were in possession of an important clue. Flyte hurried along more quickly tlmn usnaj. for it was just possible that when he reached the office of his paper he might find something fresh in regard to the mystery.

"But on Inquiry he found that nothing had come in yet with which he was not already familiar. He pat. the matter out of his mind altogether, and went on with his own work. It was long past midnight before a card was brought up to his office with a name upon : t which he recognised as that ot a well-known war correspondent and recognised free-lance in journalism. The card was immediately followed by the owner, a little alert man in gold-rimmed spectacles and pointed grey heard. "Well, Gilbert," Flytc said, "what do vou want?" little man mopped his forehead. He had all the air of one who had travelled very fast and very far. " I thought I would come to you first, Flyte," he said. "You have done me a good turn or two lately, and, besides, you people pay so liberally. I've

got the biggest thing of the year in my pocket, ami what's more.. I believe it is a tair scoop. Unless I am greatly mistaken, I can tell you_ all about the Dove mystery. I don t take much credit to myself, because it was a pure accident. I only learnt what had happened at the Co'inus Theatre about half an hour ago, but for all that 1 am quite convinced I know where Miss Dovo is to be found, and where she is kept a prisoner. It is too late now for tho other fellows to get hold of it in time for the papers, and you ought to have a fine exclusive for to-morrow morning. The solution of this mystery should give you a couple of columns of really tine reading. Now what are you flood for? Do yon think it is worth £50?" Flvt-e thought that it was. He had every confidence ni Gilbert's integrity and "good taste. Gilbert was a man ol ; standing. He had never represented anything but the highest class of journals, and as a rule sensationalism was not in his line at all. " Honestly, I don't care much for these things," Flyte said. " I always suspect the personal in theatrical _ matters, but this looks like legitimate news, and I know I can trust you. If you can let me have your special before two o'clock, T- will give you a cheque for £SO with pleasure." Gilbert vanished promptly. He came ba-jk shortly before two o'clock, still hot and perspiring. "It's all right, old man," he said. " It's all here. And if you want- to know. I had it direct from the lady herself."

CHAPTER nr. The evening had opened none too auspiciously from Gilbert's point of view. To begin with, he had been particularly anxious to attend the annual dinner of th* Good-fellows' Club, but this intention had been spoilt by the- receipt of a mysterious message, asking him to the. writer at the corner of Jesson Street at half-past nine. As a man whose knowledge of the seamy side of life was extensive and peculiar, Gilbert had many shady and mysterious acquaintances. He had made a close study of cosmopolitan criminality, strictly in tlio way of business. He was an authority on these matters, and many a political secret had come into his hands through these devious chanin^.s. Gilbert hesitated, but only for a minute or two. There had been nothing very plentiful in the way of business lately, and he had his bank book to think about. Therefore he decided to throw over the? dinner and keep the appointment. There w-as a time when Jesson Street had been on the fringe of fashion, but now the street bad been purchased fur County Council improvements, and a good many of the houses were empty. The place was none too well lighted, either, so that Gilbert was finding his wait rather a monotonous one. Save for an occasional wayfarer be had it entirely to himself. The clock had struck the half after nine before, a motor came down the street, and stopped at a house almost exactly where Gilbert was lounging on the doorstep. The blinds wore dovin and the house appeared to be deserted. Tiien it was that Gilbert saw a strange thing. He stood in the shadow of the door way where lie could see without being seen. Me saw a man closely muffled jump into the car, followed by another. Then -they proceeded to lift irom (he tonnea.ii behind what Gilbert made out to be a woman, tightly swathed in a big cloak of some kind. ' All this was done with the greatest silenee and discretion. One of the men opeuad his door with a latchkey, and the strange procession passed into the house. Immediately afterwards the motor moved a\\a.\. and Gilbert- had the street to hi nisi ••If once more. There was something suspicious about the whole thing, especially to the journalistic mind, and (rilbert made a careful note of it. He ought, perhaps, to drop a hint to the police, he lold himself, but. on the other hand, it was no business of his. Perhaps these people were surreptitiously removing- a fever patient, perhaps the lady had been taken suddenly ill ; really, there were a dozen plausible reasons for rendering the apparently mysterious practical and commonplace And, besides. Gilbert was beoinninp to got impatient. The best part of a « iiour over the time ol the appointment had elapsed, and there was no sign of Gilbert's picturesque foreigner. Perhaps the man had been detained, perhaps ho did not, find it prudent to come. At half-past ten Gilbert turned away impatiently, and made his way

westward. He dropped into a little restaurant with a view to supper, and found the place humming with excitement over the strange disappearance of Miss Cecil v Dove. Somebody left a copy of the late evening paper upon Gilbert's table ; he ran a quick eye over the brief report. He began to see his way at once. The whole thing flashed upon him in the light of a. sudden inspiration. By sheer good luck he had blundered upon the solution of the problem. Here j was a "special " which, properly hand-j led. ought to be worth £SO at ; least. Gilbert thought the whole thing i out as he sat there, eating his sup- j per and smoking a subsequent cigar- I ette. It would not do to hurry mat- j ters. Beyond all question Miss Cecily j Dove wasi safely stowed away in the i empty house in Jesson Street, and | probably by this time her captors had ! abandoned her to her fate. It would not do to go there at on-ee, because bv j doing so (filbert might bo spoiling his own'market. He, must wait lens; enough, at any rate, to he in a position ■ to tal<e his story to a newspaper offico at such an hour as would render it impossible for him to be forestalled. It was getting late, therefore, when he made his way to the office of the "Daily Record." There he made his bargain with Flyte, and this having been satisfactorily arranged, he walked away rapidly in the direction of Jesson Street. He was goiii£j to see this thing through single-handed ; he had no intention of sharing the honour and glory, to say nothing of the profits, with anybody else. He was a man of great determination and courage, and the adventure was one entirely after his own heart. The house looked quiet-enough in the deserted street. The dingy yellow blinds were all down; the place presented the appearance of having been uninhabited for some time. There was a card in one of the dining-room windows offering the remainder of the lease on ridculously low terms. Gilbert tried the door on the off-chance of getting in that way, but- without effect. He walked along the area into the basement, where he had not* much difficulty in pushing back a windowcatch with the blade of a stout pocketknife. Cautiously lighting a match behind a shaded hand, lie was not surprised to see that the basement was quite devoid of furniture. It was just the same upstairs, the place was given over to dust and desolation ; most of the doors were wide open. There was. nothing for it. therefore, but to make a thorough examination of the house, and presently Gilbert came to a door which Mas locked, Without hesitation he knocked ; then to !ii,s great gratification a voice from inside asked who was there. Then it was that Gilbert noticed that tho key was in the door outside. He venture'! to turn the key and enter the room. Inside was an armchair drawn up before a lire; behind itstood a ulain table with a lamp upon it. and hearing materials for supper. Gilbert could see that the room was lighted only hv a skylight. The girl seated in the arm-chair rose and faced him.

" Fray don't be alarmed/' he said hastily. " 1 have come here entirely to help yon. By sheer good luck [ found out where you were. My name is Gilbert and I am a Journalist, and I need not n*k you if you are Miss Cecily Dove. : ' A little colour was creeping into the girl's lace now. She seemed to be brent-hine more freely. She looked very charming in her white, clinging draperies. "Yes, I am Miss Dove," she said •'"You can imagine my state of terror the last; hour or two. I suppose f have to thank those dreadful anarchists for this. 1 did not think that they would possibly dare, in spite of their threats. "Yes, it does sound outrageous, doesn't it?" Gilbert said, soothingly. " But ttien there is no end to the audacity of those people. Still, they did you n-"> harm, though it was very cowardly of them to treat a defenceless girl in this fashion. I happened to bo in iJie stUiet w.hen they brought you here, but, of course, at that moment 1 did not dream of this disgraceful business. But as soon as 1 heard what had happened 1 guessed at once who the fair prisoner of the motor-car was. But now do sit down and compose yourself. You have nothing to fear, and besides, I am armed. I suppose Miose fellows meant no real menace to you. or they would not have provide:! vou with a supper. Do set down and eat. something. I teal.'y must insist that you should have one glass of champagne. and when you feel better jou shall tell me vcyr storj. '

A grateful smile crossed Miss Dove's charming face. She nibbled at one or two of the sandwiches: slie seemed to appreciate the champagne. Then, gently urged by Gilbert, she began to tell her story. It was pretty well on the same lines as the journalist had expected. Miss Dove's dresser had been lured out of the waj r , as also had the stagedoor keeper, and the rest- was easy. " It "was like a dream,'' Miss Dove murmured. " I cannot vet realise that it really happened. I had hardly reached my dressing-! oom before I turned round to see two men there. I had no time to ask them what they were doing. Before 1 had grasped their meaning que of them pressed a handkorchief to my mouth, and immediately I was muffled into a great shawl and lifted off my feet. I was too startled and taken by surprise to orv out, and lo and behold, before I knew where I was, I was in the car. Xo, I don't think 1 should know the men again. 1 could see nothing, and when I began to realise things and found myself in this room the tv.o men were tnaskc-d. j. am bound to confess that they treated mo quite nicely, butthey made it clear that I should have to remain here until 1 had given a promise to take no farther part in ' The •Red Light.' They said they wouhl leave me here for the night t-o think it over, and come for my decision in the morning, but they don't realise how determined 1 am. ■ ! would never give way, and in the long run they would -Je bound to set me at liberty again." Gilbert- followed all this with keenest interest. He began to sec his way to columns of alluring matter. And iv was all quite plain to him now. No doubt these miscreants had obtained the key of the house by false pretences; probably they had posed as prospective tenants, and it would not have been difficult to have made a wax impression of the latchkey, only to find out afterwards that the house was not what they wanted. At the end of half an hour Gilbert had the whole story at his tin-ger-ends. It was now one o'clock, and there was no time to lose it the " Daily Record " were to have this veracious story for the next day's issue. It was imperative also that no one should know for another hour at least- that the raising actress had been found. Gilbert felt his way dolicately. " You would like to have these miscreants punished, of course?" he said. "No doubt they have gone off feeling they will be perfectly safe till morning. If you like, I will walk back a.s far as your flat with you, and see you safely inside. It would be just as well for you to bind your maid to secrecy—l mean, don't let anybody know you have escaped till to-morrow morning, then I can go cßr to Scotland Yard and save you as nrtich trouble and annoyance as possible. Oh, you needn't, thank me; it is a pleasuie." Within an hour or so Miss Dove was safe in her flat, and (filbert way scribbling away for dear life in an office in the "Daily Record" building. It- was nearly three o'clock before he strolled leisurely homeward, feeling at peace with "ill the world, and content in the knowledge that his evening .had not been wasted.

Th? " 1-ieoorfV had undoubtedly scored, nnd ifc was done in a way. too, which satisfied even Flyie's scruples. Nothing h:nl been heard yet of the daring miscreants, but '"'The Red Light" wis playing to crowded houses, nnd Miss Dove's if!>ni-ation was made. It, w:is nearly n week later that Fb'te went out one evening in search of Mr Capper. News had readied tl«o " ><•'- cord." office of souie daring theatrical frauds in Xew York, aud if. had occurred to Flyte that hero was the very man who could verify his intormation. He bad no love for Copper, but this was in the way of business. Copper wa.s dressing for dinner, hut he would be down in a minute or two, the servant said. Perhaps Mr Fly to would walk into the dining-room. Mr Flyte would. He stood there looking round the comfortable room—-a photograph on the mantelpiece caught his attention. It was a large picture in a silver frame of Mies Dove o« Cora in " The Red Light," mid was inscribed to " My dear, dear friend, Roger N. Copper. 1 ' A sickly smilo crossed Flyte's face. " Lord, what an ass I've been !" he mattered. " It's a moot point as to which is the greater fool of the two invself or Gilbert.''