Test Bank for Intermediate Algebra 7th edition by Martin Gay 0134196171

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MULTIPLE CHOICE. Choose the one alternative that best completes the statement or answers the question.

Solve the equation.

1) -2a = 10
A) 1 B) -5 C) 12 D) -12
Answer: B

2) 3x - 8 = 16
A) 25 B) 8 C) 13 D) 21
Answer: B

3) 35 = -10x + 5
A) 40 B) 44 C) 8 D) -3
Answer: D

4) 8x - 10 = 3x + 5
A) -3 B) -1 C) 3 D) 1
Answer: C

5) 8(y + 2) = 10y + 16
A) 16 B) 32 C) -16 D) 0
Answer: D

6) 7x + 8 = 8(x - 6)
A) -40 B) 40 C) 56 D) -56
Answer: C

7) 4(3x - 22) = 12x - 88

11 22
A) all real numbers B) - C) ∅ D) -
6 3

Answer: A

8) 3(5x + 3) + 50 = 8x - 4
A) -63 B) -441 C) -9 D) 9
Answer: C

9) -8x + 8 + 2x - 9 = 1
1 1 1
A) - B) - C) 3 -3
3 5 D)

Answer: A

10) 3x + 2 - 3x - 7 = 2x - 2x - 8
A) 0 B) ∅ C) -96 D) all real numbers
Answer: B

11) 7x = 5(9x + 2)
5 5 19 10
A) B) - C) D)
19 19 5 7
Answer: B

1
 12) 12(7x - 2) = 9x - 6
6 6 6
A)
2 B) - C) 25 D) 31
5 25
Answer: C

13) -36(x - 8) = -24(x - 12)

A) all real numbers B) 0 C) -60 D) ∅
Answer: B

14) 2(x + 8) = 3(x - 8)

A) ∅ B) all real numbers C) 40 D) -8
Answer: C

15) (x - 9) - (x + 6) = 5x
15 B) 1 5
A) - C) - 3 D) -
5
7 3
Answer: C

16) -3(k - 5) - (-4k - 2) = 4

A) 21 B) - 13 C) - 7 D) 13
Answer: B

17) 7(x - 3) - 35 = 9x - 2(x + 1)

A) -37 B) -33 C) all real numbers D) ∅
Answer: D

2 x 1
18) - =
3 4 12
7 7 C) 7 7
A) B) - D) -
4
3 4 3

Answer: A

x x 1
19) = +
10 9 10
1
A) - 9 B) 0 C) -
1 D) -
9 10

Answer: A

x x
20) - =9
3 4
A) 36 B) 12 C) 108 D) 27
Answer: C

2x x
21) - =2
5 3

2
 A) -30 B) 60 C) -60 D) 30
Answer: D

3
 x x
22) - 13 =
7 7
91
A) B) all real numbers C) ∅ D) 0
2

Answer: C

7x 1 3x
23) + =
4 2 2
A) -8 B) 8 C) 2 D) -2
Answer: D

x+4 x-1 5
24) + =
6 2 6

7
A) 0 B) 10 C) D) 1
2

Answer: D

x + 3 3x - 12
25) - =1
3 11

A) - 6 B) 18 C) - 18 D) -36
Answer: C

1 1
26) (x - 12) - (x - 9) = x - 5
4 9
252 108 324 36
A) B) C) D)
31 31 31 31

Answer: B

1 x 1
27) (10x - 15) = 6 - +5
5 3 2
B) 5
A) 0 4 C) all real numbers D) ∅

Answer: D

28) x + 9.8 = 15.4

A) 25.2 B) 5.6 C) -5.6 D) -25.2
Answer: B

29) x - 3.7 = -6.9

A) 10.6 B) -3.2 C) -10.6 D) 3.2
Answer: B

30) 9x + 1.2 = -17.7

A) -5.8 B) -2.1 C) -3.5 D) -5.4
Answer: B
4
 31) -47.4 - 8x = 1.4
A) -6.8 B) -6.6 C) -6.1 D) -7.4
Answer: C

32) 1.5x + 2.8 = 0.7x - 0.08

A) -3.564 B) -3.6 C) -3.59 D) 0.278
Answer: B

33) 2.6m + 6.9 - 4.9m = -7.2 - 2.3m + 14.1

A) ∅ B) 0 C) -4.1 D) all real numbers
Answer: D

34) 0.09(5x + 1) = 0.45(x + 7) - 3.06

A) -3.06 B) 0.09 C) ∅ D) all real numbers
Answer: D

35) x(2x - 1) + 2 = 2x(x - 2) + x

2
A) - 2 B) - C) - 1 D) 2
3

Answer: C

36) x(x + 8) - 8 = x2 + 3x + 1
8 9 9
A) 5 B) 8 C) 5 9
D)
Answer: C

Write the following as an algebraic expression. Then simplify.

37) The perimeter of the rectangle with width x and length x + 38.

x + 38
A) x2 + 38x B) 4x + 76 C) 2x + 38 D) 4x + 38
Answer: B

38) The sum of three even consecutive integers if the first integer is y.
A) 3y B) 3y + 3 C) 3y + 6 D) 6
Answer: C

39) The perimeter of a triangle whose sides are of lengths 5x, 5x + 9, and x.
A) 10x + 9 B) 11x + 9 C) 19x D) 25x2 + 45x
Answer: B

5
 40) The sum of three consecutive integers if the last integer is z.
A) 3z + 6 B) 3z C) 3z - 3 D) 3z + 3
Answer: C

41) The perimeter of a square with sides of length x + 5.

A) 4x + 20 B) x + 20 C) 4x + 5 D) x2 + 10x + 25
Answer: A

42) The total value of money (in cents) of (4x - 2) nickels, 6x dimes, and x quarters.
A) (105x - 2) cents B) (105x - 10) cents C) (80x - 10) cents D) (105x + 10) cents
Answer: B

43) The perimeter of the floor plan shown.

12

x-3
A) 48 B) 2x C) 2x + 48 D) 2x + 18
Answer: D

Solve.
44) Three times the sum of some number plus 3 is equal to 7 times the number minus 15.
A) -24 B) 6 C) -6 D) 24
Answer: B

45) The difference of a number and 7 is the same as 49 less the number. Find the number.
A) 28 B) -28 C) -21 D) 21
Answer: A

46) Seven times some number added to 4 amounts to 32 added to the product of 3 and the number.
A) -28 B) 7 C) 28 D) -7
Answer: B

47) Find 90% of 60.

A) 5400 B) 54 C) 540 D) 600
Answer: B

48) Find 13% of 3000.

A) 390 B) 39 C) 3900 D) 39,000
Answer: A

49) Find 14% of 26.

A) 0.364 B) 364 C) 3.64 D) 36.4
Answer: C

6
50) A region consists of 2545 thousand acres of farm land. If 28% of this land is privately owned, find how may
acres are not privately owned.
A) 1832.4 acres B) 712.6 acres
C) 712.6 thousand acres D) 1832.4 thousand acres
Answer: D

51) A diamond ring sold for $2776.80 including tax. If the tax rate where the diamond was purchased is 6.8%, find
the price of the ring before the tax was added. (Round to the nearest cent, if necessary.)
A) $188.82 B) $2600.00 C) $2587.98 D) $2965.62
Answer: B

52) The three most prominent buildings in a city, Washington Center, Lincoln Galleria, and Jefferson Square Tower,
have a total height of 1800 feet. Find the height of each building if Jefferson Square Tower is twice as tall as
Lincoln Galleria and Washington Center is 120 feet taller than Lincoln Galleria.
A) Washington Center: 720 feet B) Washington Center: 540 feet
Lincoln Galleria: 360 feet Lincoln Galleria: 420 feet
Jefferson Square Tower: 720 feet Jefferson Square Tower: 840 feet
C) Washington Center: 680 feet D) Washington Center: 480 feet
Lincoln Galleria: 340 feet Lincoln Galleria: 360 feet
Jefferson Square Tower: 780 feet Jefferson Square Tower: 960 feet
Answer: B

53) The sum of three consecutive even integers is 330. Find the integers.
A) 108, 110, 112 B) 110, 112, 114 C) 109, 110, 111 D) 106, 108, 110
Answer: A

54) The population of a town increased by 20% in 5 years. If the population is currently28,000, find the population
of this town 5 years ago. (Round to the nearest whole, if necessary.)
A) 23,333 B) 22,400 C) 140,000 D) 5600
Answer: A

55) Find the measures of the angles of a triangle if the measure of the first angle is twice the measure of the second
angle and the third angle is 40° more than the second angle.
A) 55°, 15°, 110° B) 30°, 15°, 135° C) 75°, 35°, 70° D) 56°, 28°, 96°
Answer: C

56) A publisher printed 62 million pages in its production process last year. If this represents a 124% over the
number of pages printed the previous year, how many pages were printed the previous year? (Round to the
nearest hundredth million, if necessary.)
A) 153.76 million pages B) 50 million pages
C) 15,376 million pages D) 500 million pages
Answer: B

7
 57) Recall that two angles are complements of each other if their sum is 90°. Angle A and angle B are
complementary angles and angle A is 2° more than three times angle B. Find the measures of angle A and angle
B.

A) A = 48°, B = 42° B) A = 22°, B = 68° C) A = 42°, B = 48° D) A = 68°, B = 22°

Answer: D

58) Rcall that two angles are supplements of each other if their sum is 180°. Angle A and angle B are supplementary
angles and angle A is 25° less than four times angle B. Find the measures of angle A and angle B.

A) A = 139°, B = 41° B) A = 149°, B = 31°

C) A = 164°, B = 16° D) A = 128.3°, B = 51.7°
Answer: A

59) The cost C to produce x number of tennis rackets is C = 140 + 25x. The tennis rackets are sold wholesale for $30
each, so revenue R is given by R = 30x. Find how many tennis rackets the manufacturer needs to produce and
sell to break even.
A) 14 tennis rackets B) 33 tennis rackets C) 28 tennis rackets D) 23 tennis rackets
Answer: C

Solve the formula for the specified variable.

60) d = rt for t
d
A) t = dr B) t = C) t = d - r D) t =
r
r d

Answer: B

61) I = Prt for r

I P-I P-1
A) r = P - It B) r = C) r = D) r =
Pt 1+t It

Answer: B

8
 1
62) A = bh for h
2
A 2A Ab b
A) h = B) h = C) h = D) h =
2b b 2 2A
Answer: B

1
63) V = Bh for B
3
3V h 3h V
A) B = B) B = C) B = D) B =
h 3V V 3h
Answer: A

64) P = a + b + c for a
A) a = P - b - c B) a = P + b - c C) a = P + b + c D) a = b + c - P
Answer: A

65) P = 2L + 2W for L
P - 2W P- W
A) L = P - W B) L = C) L = d - 2W D) L =
2 2
Answer: B

66) A = P + PRT for R

P-A A- P A PT
A) R = B) R = C) R = D) R =
PT PT T A-P

Answer: B

1
67) A = h(B + b) for B
2
2A + bh 2A - bh A - bh
A) B = 2A - bh B) B = C) B = D) B =
h h h

Answer: C

9
68) F = C + 32 for C
5
F - 32 9 5 5

A) C = B) C = (F - 32) C) C = (F - 32) D) C =
9 5 9 F - 32
Answer: C

69) S = 2πrh + 2πr2 for h

S - 2πr2 S
A) h = S - r B) h = C) h = -1 D) h = 2π(S - r)
2πr 2πr
Answer: B

9
 r nt
Use the formula A = P 1 + to find the amount requested.
n

70) A principal of $1,000 is invested in an account paying an annual interest rate of 10%. Find the amount in the
account after 11 years if the account is compounded annually.
A) $2593.74 B) $2853.12 C) $3138.43 D) $1853.12
Answer: B

71) A principal of $1,000 is invested in an account paying an annual interest rate of 11%. Find the amount in the
account after 11 years if the account is compounded semiannually.
A) $3247.54 B) $3151.76 C) $2247.54 D) $3078.23
Answer: A

72) A principal of $14,000 is invested in an account paying an annual interest rate of 6%. Find the amount in the
account after 5 years if the account is compounded semiannually.
A) $4814.83 B) $18,266.82 C) $18,814.83 D) $18,735.16
Answer: C

73) A principal of $480 is invested in an account paying an annual interest rate of 18%. Find the amount in the
account after 7 years if the account is compounded quarterly.
A) $1529.03 B) $1166.26 C) $1575.36 D) $1646.26
Answer: D

74) A principal of $12,000 is invested in an account paying an annual interest rate of 6%. Find the amount in the
account after 6 years if the account is compounded quarterly.
A) $17,022.23 B) $16,900.53 C) $17,154.03 D) $5154.03
Answer: C

Solve.
9
75) Use the formula F = C + 32 to write 20° C as degrees Fahrenheit.
5
A) -6.6° F B) 4° F C) 29° F D) 68° F
Answer: D

5
76) Use the formula C = (F - 32) to write 203° F as degrees Celsius.
9
A) 95° C B) 80.8° C C) 130.6° C D) 397.4° C
Answer: A

77) It took Sara's mother 6 hours round trip to drive to the University and bring Sara back home for spring break. If
the University is 111 miles from home, find her mother's average speed.
1 1
A) 38 mph B) 18 mph C) 55 mph D) 37 mph
2 2
Answer: D

1
78) You are varnishing the background for a rectangular mural. The base of the mural is 7 meters and the height
2
of the mural is 3 meters. How many cans of varnish will you need if each can covers 10 square meters?
A) 9 cans of varnish B) 23 cans of varnish C) 3 cans of varnish D) 5 cans of varnish
Answer: C

10
 79) A manufacturing company was asked to make a special testtube with dimensions r = 1.1 cm and h = 9.8 cm as
shown on the figure. If the body of the test tube is a cylinder and the bottom is a hemisphere, find the volume of
the testtube. Round to two decimal places when necessary, using 3.14 for π.

A) 42.81 cu. cm B) 40.02 cu. cm C) 50.22 cu. cm D) 38.63 cu. cm

Answer: B

Graph the solution set of the inequality and write it in interval notation.
80) {x|x > 5}

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

A) (5, ∞)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

B) [5, ∞)

- - - - - 0 5
-7 -6 5 4 3 2 1 1 2 3 4 6 7

C) (-∞, 5]

- - - - - 0 5
-7 -6 5 4 3 2 1 1 2 3 4 6 7

D) (-∞, 5)

- - - - - 0 5
-7 -6 5 4 3 2 1 1 2 3 4 6 7

Answer: A

11
81) {x|x < 3}

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

A) (-∞, 3]

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

B) (3, ∞)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

C) (-∞, 3)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

D) [3, ∞)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Answer: C

82) {x|x ≥ -7}

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

A) (-∞, -7)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

B) (-∞, -7]

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

C) (-7, ∞)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

D) [-7, ∞)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Answer: D

12
83) {x|x ≤ -3}

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

A) [-3, ∞)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
B) (-∞, -3]

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7
C) (-∞, -3)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

D) (-3, ∞)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Answer: B

84) {x|3 < x}

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

A) [3, ∞)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

B) (3, ∞)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

C) (-∞, 3)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

D) (-∞, 3]

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Answer: B

13
85) {x|-1 ≤ x ≤ 3}

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

A) [-1, 3)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

B) (-1, 3]

- - - - -1 3 6 7
-7 -6 5 4 3 2 0 1 2 4 5

C) [-1, 3]

- - - - -1 3 6 7
-7 -6 5 4 3 2 0 1 2 4 5

D) (-1, 3)

- - - - -1 3 6 7
-7 -6 5 4 3 2 0 1 2 4 5

Answer: C
86)
{x|-2 < x < 2}

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

A) (-2, 2]

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

B) [-2, 2)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

C) (-2, 2)

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

D) [-2, 2]

-7 -6 -5 -4 -3 -2 -1 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Answer: C

14
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girl at the wheel was showing disturbing signs of putting the motor into
reverse and seeking to back off the heavy piece of bridge-railing that,
jammed in between their rear mud-guard and the side of the car, was the
only thing preventing the machine from plunging off into eternity.

"I say, leave the motor alone!" Rodrigo shouted at once and scrambled
hurriedly out from behind the wheel of the sedan, his companions following.

"And whose motor is it, may I ask?" the pretty blonde in the driver's seat
came back promptly, at the same time jabbing furiously at levers.

Rodrigo was by this time at her side and, horrified, was clutching for her
wrist. "Lady, lady," he cried half in fear and half in mockery. "Shut off the
motor and get out quick. You're on the brink of eternity."

"Yes, Sophie, do," the other girl, slightly older and a brunette, agreed.

At first inclined to be stubborn, Sophie at length permitted herself to be

helped down from her precarious perch and her companion followed,
Terhune and Bond re-inforcing Rodrigo.

Thus the Oxonians made the acquaintance of Sophie Binner and Adele
Du Bois, ladies of the chorus in "The Golden Slipper," the current revue at
the Gayety. On the promise of stopping at the nearest garage and having the
wrecked machine sent for, the girls consented to enter the sedan and be
driven back to London. By the time the outskirts of the city were reached,
the party was a very gay one and Sir William Newbold's Treasure Hunt was
quite forgotten.

Rodrigo was especially interested in Sophie. He had at that time met

very few ladies of the stage informally. The frankness, sharp tongue and
cream-and-gold beauty of Sophie intrigued him. Rodrigo was rather adroit
with all types of women, even at twenty. He flattered Sophie half seriously,
half banteringly, exchanged bon mots, made an engagement in a low voice to
see her again. Bill Terhune told her on the quiet that Rodrigo was the son of
a real Count, thus increasing many fold the force of the impression the good-
looking Latin had made upon her.
 The Oxonians had dinner with Sophie and Adele, saw the show at the
Gayety, and took the girls later to a supper club. It was the first of several
parties in which Rodrigo's and Sophie's friends took part.

Having, following this adventure, made his apologies to his uncle and
aunt for having left the Treasure Hunt flat, the excuse being the necessity of
rescuing an automobile party in distress, Rodrigo proceeded to cultivate the
further acquaintance of Miss Binner assiduously and without the knowledge
of the Newbolds.

He was her constant cavalier. She taught him much—for instance, that a
baby-faced blonde can possess a wicked tongue, a sudden and devastating
temper and a compensating tenderness that made up for both defects. He was
thoroughly infatuated at first. Then his ardor cooled as he realized that
Sophie was professing to take his wooing seriously. The idea of contracting
an alliance with a future nobleman seemed to appeal to her. Rodrigo did not
think of her in that regard at all, and he was alarmed. He began looking for a
loophole.

The climax came at a party arranged for after the show in Sophie's
Mayfair apartment. Rodrigo had recruited Bill Terhune, Bond and three or
four other Oxford friends for the fun. They had accumulated Sophie, Adele
and a quartet of their sister coryphees at the theatre after the evening
performance and whirled them through the London streets in a fleet of
taxicabs. At two o'clock in the morning the party was in full swing. The
tinpanny piano crashed out American jazz under the nimble fingers of
Sophie. Leslie Bond numbered drumming among his numerous avocations
and had brought along the clamorous tools of his hobby. His hysterical
efforts on drums, cymbals and cowbells augmented the din and broke both
drums.

The revelers sang, danced, drank and made love. Bill Terhune, under the
impetus of spirits, was especially boisterous.

There was a sharp knocking upon the door. A corpulent, red-faced

Englishman in a frayed and gaudy bathrobe announced that he occupied the
apartment below, had been awakened by plaster falling upon his bed and his
person, and that "this Donnybrook Fair must cease at once." He was set upon
joyously by three burly Oxonians and good-naturedly propelled down the
stairs.

Sophie, from the piano, however, did not share their enthusiasm. "It may
interest you impetuous lads to know that our killjoy friend is a magistrate
and will probably have a couple of bobbies here in five minutes," she
warned them. They laughed at her and the party went on.

In twenty minutes there was another knock. Two bobbies, each built like
Dempsey, confronted Rodrigo when he opened the door. The policemen
entered with that soft, authoritative tread that London police have. One of
them laid hands upon Bill Terhune. Bill, former intercollegiate boxing
champion, was in a flushed and pugnacious mood. He promptly struck the
officer in the face and sent him reeling to the floor.

Immediately the party grew serious. Englishmen respect the police. An

American may attack a Broadway policeman, but hitting a London bobby is
something else again. The other bobby swung into action with his club.
There was a concerted rush for the door. Rodrigo could have easily escaped.
But he chose instead to stand by Sophie, who, he knew, was due for trouble
as the tenant of the apartment. When the tumult and the shouting died, the
room contained Sophie, Rodrigo, one angry bobby with pencil raised over
his book, and one still bobby recumbent upon the floor.

"The names now—the right ones," commanded the erect bobby.

"First, don't you think we'd better revive your friend on the floor?"
Rodrigo suggested.

When they had brought the fallen one back to life, Rodrigo soothingly
and skillfully persuaded the officers to let Sophie alone, to allow him to
assume sole responsibility for the trouble. He asked only permission to
telephone his uncle, Sir William Newbold. The bobbies generously
consented to take him, without Sophie, to jail for the rest of the night, but
they declined to allow him the use of the telephone.

The jail cell was cold, cramped and dirty. Rodrigo's cellmate was a hairy
navvy recovering from a debauch. Rodrigo had to listen to the fellow's
alternate snoring and maudlin murmurings until dawn. When, around ten
o'clock in the morning, he did succeed in getting in touch with his uncle, the
latter's influence was sufficient to secure his release.

Sir William delivered to his nephew a severe lecture. Then he telephoned

the newspaper offices with the idea of having any possible news of his
nephew's incarceration suppressed. In this endeavor he was unsuccessful.
Two papers contained an account of the arrest, and the more sensational
sheet of the two declared that Rodrigo, son of Count Angelo Torriani and
nephew of "London's leading merchant-knight, Sir William Newbold," was
the fiancé of Sophie Binner and that they were to be married shortly.
Rodrigo denied this vehemently to his uncle and was indeed just as angry
about it as was Sir William. He saw in it evidence that Sophie had
prevaricated to the newspapers, had used his ill fortune as a means of
securing notoriety and possibly of binding him publicly to an alliance that
did not exist.

He resolved to call upon her and break off any possible entanglement
with her.

He confronted her in her apartment in the middle of the next afternoon.

She looked especially lovely, her spun-gold tresses in informal disarray and
her beauty encased in a silken lounging gown. But Rodrigo was firm. He
accused her of exploiting last night's episode in the papers, of giving out
news of an engagement that was false. Though she denied this, at first
poutingly, then coyly and finally with considerable vehemence not unmixed
with vulgarity, Rodrigo insisted. He worked her into a tempest and, at the
climax, dramatically walked out of the room and, as he thought, of her life.

During the two years following his graduation from Oxford, Rodrigo had
vague ambitions to become a painter and spent considerable time browsing
about the galleries of England, Spain, France and his native Italy. He had a
workroom fitted up in the palace of the Torrianis and did some original work
in oil that was not without merit. But he worked spasmodically. His heart
was not in it. He knew good painting too well to believe that his was an
outstanding talent, and he lacked ambition therefore to concentrate upon
developing it.
 In the pursuit of pleasure and the spending of money he was more
whole-hearted. He skied and tobogganed at St. Moritz, gambled at Monte
Carlo, laughed at Montmartre's attempts to shock him, and flirted in all three
places. Upon the invitation of the bobby-assaulting American Rhodes
scholar, Terhune by name, now squandering his South Dakotan father's
money in New York under the pretence of making a career in architecture,
Rodrigo visited America. America, to Rodrigo, was represented by the
Broadway theatre and nightclub belt between dusk and dawn. Having in a
few weeks exhausted his funds and finding his cabled requests for more
greeted with a strange reticence, Rodrigo started for home. Three days out
from New York he received the cable announcing to him Count Angelo
Torriani's sudden death.

Rodrigo had adored and respected his quiet, high-minded English

mother, from whom he had inherited the thin vein of pure gold concealed
deep down below the veneer of selfishness and recklessness that coated his
character. He loved his father, from whom he drew the superficial and less
desirable traits of his personality. Loved him and, without respecting him
particularly, treated him as he would an older brother of kindred tastes and
faults.

His father's death shook Rodrigo down considerably for a while. It

sobered him, made him suddenly aware of his appalling aloneness in a world
of many acquaintances but not an understanding relative nor close friend.
The secondary calamity of having been, out of a clear sky, left penniless and
in debt did not at first impress itself upon him. When the late Count
Torriani's will was read, revealing the surprisingly devastated condition of
the Torriani finances, and debtors began to present their claims, Rodrigo,
now Count Rodrigo faced the realization that his whole mode of life must be
changed.

He dismissed the servants, keeping Maria because she refused to go,

even after being informed that she would probably have to serve without pay
if she stayed. He finally brought himself to talking with an agent at Naples
about renting the palace and selling some of the works of art which it
contained. The agent was very brisk and business-like. He jumped up and
down from his chair and rubbed his hands continually, like an American.
Rodrigo was irritated by the vulgarian. He abruptly left the matter and the
realtor up in the air and jumped into his car outside. As he swung along the
shore of the bay he was in very low spirits, lonesome and as nearly
depressed with life as he had ever been. In his preoccupation he paid only
subconscious attention to the road ahead and the swift speed at which his car
was traveling. He heard suddenly a shriek and flashed his eyes in its
direction just in time to avoid killing a girl.

In the flash he saw that the girl was dark, and beautiful in a wildflower-
like manner. She was also very dusty from walking. In the torrent of oaths
which she poured after him, she furthermore revealed herself as charmingly
coarse and unrestrained. Rodrigo cheered up. After the weeks of grief and
loneliness, and particularly after the Naples realtor, he found himself
wanting ardently to talk to a woman, any woman. He stopped the car and
slowly backed up even with the approaching girl. She continued to swear at
him. He smiled. When she had gradually quieted, he apologized and offered
her a seat beside him. Her angry face relaxed, she pouted, and ended by
accepting.

In a few days he had drifted into a fast ripening friendship with Rosa
Minardi, who was childlike, was no tax upon his conversational charms or
ingenuity, and who liked him very much. Her mother was dead, her father
was away in Rome on some mysterious errand. Rodrigo badly needed any
sort of companionship, and Rosa filled the need.

CHAPTER III

Maria's gnarled knuckles beat vigorously upon her young master's door.
When her tattoo failed to bring results, she opened the door and walked
boldly in. Waddling to the floor-length windows, she flung aside the heavy
draperies, drenching the room with sunlight. With a guttural exclamation that
was half disgust and half tenderness, she turned toward the dark, recumbent
form upon the canopied bed, still undisturbed by her activities. She
approached Rodrigo and shook him.
 When at last he blinked up at her, she said sharply, "Get up, lazy one.
Your American has already breakfasted and is downstairs waiting for you."

Rodrigo's face screwed itself interrogatively, American? Then his

drowsy, somewhat fuddled brain remembered Dorning, of Dorning and Son.
Rodrigo frowned. Bother Americans. So full of restless energy, such early
risers. He looked languidly at the watch upon his wrist. Eleven o'clock. He
sat upright in bed and indulged in a prodigious yawn. With a grimace at the
ample back of Maria, just disappearing out of the door, he slid out of bed.

Half an hour later, having bathed and breakfasted, Count Rodrigo,

looking as fresh and bright of eye as a trained athlete, walked briskly
downstairs to find that his guest had apparently not missed him in the least.
Dorning was standing in front of the expansive canvas of an oil painting in
the great entrance hall of the Torrianis. He had just donned a pair of tortoise-
rimmed glasses and was bending over to read the metal plate set in the
elaborate frame of the painting. The plate read: "Francesca Torriani, 1527-
1562." Dorning realized the likeness between the ruffled-collared,
sardonically smiling aristocrat on the canvas and his host, whom he now
turned to greet.

"I see you are making the acquaintance of my ancestors," said Rodrigo.
"This one, like the others, you will observe, led a short life and, so I
understand, a merry one." Rodrigo noted curiously how glasses added at
least five years to the age of John Dorning. Having at the instant of their first
encounter at the Café Del Mare set the American down as an innocent and
probably a prig, Rodrigo had, during their discourse and drinking of the
previous night, changed his mind and conceived a mild liking for the man.
Dorning was honest, outspoken, and possessed of considerable culture. He
was, Rodrigo vaguely felt, the sort of person whom he should cultivate, the
type that develops into a staunch and worth-while friend.

"Your ancestor has at least had the good fortune to have been perpetuated
by an excellent artist," said Dorning.

"Here is something that will interest you," offered Rodrigo, walking over
to a low, ornately carved cabinet set against an adjacent wall. "This is the
best example of Early Renaissance cabinet work anywhere around here."
Dorning bent a grave, interested head and ran expert fingers over the
carving. His host tugged at the doors of the cabinet. As he wrenched them
apart, a shelf inside, unbalanced by his effort, slid out upon the floor, spilling
its contents as it came. The two young men looked at each other, and
Rodrigo grinned sheepishly. Two bundles of letters and a feminine lace fan
lay at Dorning's feet.

Rodrigo dropped to his knees and, replacing the souvenirs, closed the
cabinet. He rose, dusted his hands, said suavely, "The cabinet was made by
Beniti, in Genoa, around 1627. The contents are slightly more modern."

"So I judged," said John Dorning dryly. Then with more enthusiasm, "I
only wish I knew Italian antiques as well as you do, Count Torriani—and
antiques are my business."

Both turned as Maria came toward them in considerable agitation. "A

man named Minardi and a girl are here to see you," she announced in rapid
Italian to Rodrigo. "I do not like his looks. I refused to admit him, but he has
pushed his way into the outer hall." She indicated the draperies on the other
side of the room.
 "STOP! DO YOU WANT TO BE ARRESTED? THIS GENTLEMAN IS
AN AMERICAN."

Rodrigo's face clouded. Damn the fellow's persistence. "Tell him to go

away. I will not see him. Tell him I shall have him arrested if he continues to
bother me," he instructed Maria.

She turned doubtfully. She lacked her usual faith in her sharp tongue in
dealing with a calloused fellow like Minardi. She had taken but a step when
the draperies parted and Minardi, wearing the same clothes, expression, and
carnation as on the previous evening, bulked before them. He had heard
Rodrigo's voice talking with Maria, and he was taking no chances. His fat,
weak face was trying its best to assume hard, menacing lines. His ill-kept,
corpulent body was drawn up as straight as possible with unrighteous
indignation. He relaxed for an instant to turn around and drag by the wrist
from the other side of the curtain his daughter, Rosa.
 Rosa had been brought to the scene with some difficulty. She flashed
indignation at her father through swollen eyes. Actually propelled now into
the presence of Rodrigo, she glanced half defiantly, half shamefacedly at
him, then stood regarding the floor.

Victor Minardi started at once toward Dorning, taking up again with

undiminished vigor the torrent of abuse and threat which he had hurled at the
American at the Café Del Mare. He was persisting in his belief that Dorning
was Count Torriani, the man who was to pay.

Rodrigo stepped between the gesticulating Italian and the uncertain

Dorning. "I am Count Torriani. Now, what is it you want?"

Minardi wheeled upon Rodrigo. "So—it was you! Ah. Why did you not
say so before, eh?" And he launched into a fresh flood of indignation.

Rodrigo raised a hand to stop him. He perceived that this fellow could
not be easily overawed. Minardi wanted money and would probably
continue to be a howling nuisance until he got it. Rosa, Rodrigo suspected
shrewdly, was in the plot with her father. Certainly she would not otherwise
have revealed her love affair with Rodrigo to Minardi and, instead of
keeping her rendezvous at the Café Del Mare, allowed the noisy old man to
come on a blackmailing expedition in her place. Any tenderness Rodrigo had
previously felt for Rose Minardi disappeared. His lips curled as he looked at
her dark head, cast down in assumed modesty.

When Minardi had calmed down, Rodrigo snapped, "How much do you
want?"

Minardi's anger faded. His eyes lighted up with greed. "Five thousand
lira," he replied in a business-like tone.

"You come high," said Rodrigo.

Minardi's hand went to his greasy inside coat pocket, "I have here letters
that are worth more than that," he said. "Letters you have written to my
Rosa. There are such things as breach of promise suits. The newspapers
would like them, eh? The Torrianis are not popular at Naples, eh?"
 In spite of himself, Rodrigo winced a little. This fat, futile old reprobate
began to assume the proportions of a real danger. Rodrigo essayed frankness.
"You know so much about the Torrianis," suggested he, "you perhaps know
that I have not five thousand liras at the moment."

Minardi shrugged his stooped shoulders. "Even if that is true, you can
get them," he said. And he looked significantly at John Dorning, an
interested and somewhat disgusted spectator at the scene.

Rodrigo's slim fingers were drumming nervously upon the Beniti cabinet
which he had just been displaying to his guest. In their nervous course over
the top of the cabinet the finger points met the smooth surface of an
elaborately wrought silver vase standing there. Rodrigo looked down. He
hesitated an instant, then caught up the vase in his hand.

"This was made by the great Cellini himself," he remarked to Minardi.

"It is worth at least twice the amount you are blackmailing me for. You can
easily dispose of it in Naples. I do not, of course, admit any of your silly
accusations. However, take this vase—and go at once."

He held the exquisitely formed metal toward Minardi. John Dorning's

eyes made a hasty appraisal of it. He half opened his lips to protest against
this careless disposal of the little silver masterpiece. But Minardi, hardly
looking at it, snarled, "No. I want money."

Dorning said at once to Rodrigo, "Give him money then. I will buy the
vase. I'll give you twice what he wants—ten thousand liras—and make a
handsome profit if I ever want to dispose of it." He took out his purse.

Rodrigo regarded his guest with puzzled surprise. "I don't want you to do
this for me, Dorning. I——"

"Please believe me, it is merely a matter of business," Dorning cut in

quietly. "I am in Italy for the purpose of picking up just such bargains." He
counted out the money and offered it to Rodrigo. The young Italian hesitated
an instant, then took the proffered notes, counted them and started to hand
half to Minardi.
 "You want something for your money, don't you?" Dorning interjected.
"Your letters?"

"Naturally," replied Rodrigo, flushing a little. He was not used to being

prompted. As he took the packet of note-paper from Minardi's greasy hands
he now made an over-elaborate show of checking them up. "They are all
here," he decided, speaking curtly and more to Dorning than to Rosa's papa.
To the latter he continued even more curtly, "Now get out. If I see you about
here again I will turn you over to the police."

Minardi bowed impudently. He made a move to seize the silent Rosa's

hand, but she eluded him. Suddenly she opened shrill soprano abuse of her
father. "I hope you're satisfied now!" she cried. "You have humiliated me,
your daughter. You've sold my honest love for money, made me appear a
low, scheming woman. I hate you." With a swift movement she slipped over
to Rodrigo, who stood with arms folded, regarding her with a wry smile.

"Please tell me you do not think I plotted this with him," she pleaded, her
dark, warm face quite near to his. "It is not for money I love you. I did not
come to the café last night, because I was angry with you for telling me I am
bad tempered. I cried all last night over that, Rodrigo. But I am not angry at
you now. I am angry only at Papa." Her soft arms attempted to steal around
Rodrigo's neck. "Tell me that you still love me," she begged in a low, husky
voice.

Still he stood rigid. He shot an apologetic smile at Dorning. Even now he

felt the attraction of this creature of primitive emotions, though he suspected
she was acting.

"But you are bad tempered, Rosa," he jibed, disengaging her arms. "And
I think you are somewhat of a liar besides."

She fairly flung herself away from him at that, standing with heaving
bosom and flashing eyes. She was still cursing him when her father laid
violent hands upon her and led her out of the house.

Rodrigo shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarette. "A charming

creature," he remarked flippantly to Dorning. Nevertheless Rodrigo was
rather ashamed of the scene the two Minardis had made in front of the
American. Somehow Dorning had already assumed an importance to him
much more than that of a casual and congenial guest. It was not that Dorning
had stepped into an embarrassing situation with ten thousand liras. It was the
spirit that had prompted the American's action. Rodrigo sensed a quiet
strength in the man that he himself somehow lacked, a strength that in the
troublous future confronting him he would like to have near him.

"The trouble with women," Rodrigo remarked, "is that they cannot keep
love in its proper place. It soon ceases to be a game with them and becomes
a mad scramble to possess a man. Then comes jealousy, bad temper,
remorse, and complications such as you have just seen."

"'Love is to man a thing apart; to woman their whole being,'" Dorning

quoted. He did not think his host had acquitted himself with especial credit
in the "complications." There was a tawdriness about the Minardis and the
scene they had created unbecoming to a man who owned original Cellinis
and other treasures. Art, to Dorning, was about all there was in life. The
Rosas were superficial annoyances that had never yet entered into his own
career, though he was quite aware that they existed in the careers of most
other men. He had been immediately attracted to his host by their mutual
interest in art. The charm of the man, his good looks, his facile tongue, his
wit and deftness in conversation had added to the attraction. Why should
such a man love such a common creature as Rosa Minardi and consent to be
blackmailed by her father? Dorning resolved to forget Rosa and turned the
conversation to tapestries.

But Rodrigo's thoughts were not entirely diverted from "complications."

"There is an amusing tradition about those tapestries," he said. "You will
observe that the ones near the window seat are identical with those at the
door leading into the outer hall. Well, my worthy ancestor whose portrait
you have praised, Francesca Torriani, once found their similarity his
undoing. It seems that he was entertaining a very lovely married lady in this
room, a Countess. Her husband, the Count, followed her to the rendezvous.
Suddenly in the middle of my ancestor's love-making, the Countess caught
sight of her husband outside. 'Quick,' she cried, 'where can I hide?' Francesca
thrust her behind the tapestry by the door.
 "The Count entered, very angry and his hand upon his sword hilt. 'Where
is my wife? I saw her come here,' he bellowed. Francesca swore like a
gentleman that the lady was not present. The Count insisted and started
searching. His eye caught the outline of a lady's foot showing beneath the
tapestry. With a loud cry of rage he tore the tapestry to one side and revealed
not his Countess but quite another lady! Another of Francesca's lady friends
had sought shelter when the Countess entered, behind the tapestries by the
window seat. All might have been well had not the Countess, hearing from
her hiding-place a woman's voice, been assailed by jealousy and, casting
discretion to the winds, come forth breathing fire and brimstone."

"What happened then?" asked Dorning smiling, amused in spite of

himself.

"There was a terrific four-handed clash. Poor Francesca was half mad
with anxiety. The Count challenged him to a duel. In the fight, Francesca,
who, unlike the rest of the Torrianis, was no swordsman, was killed."

"And quite a proper climax to the adventure it was," John Dorning

declared soberly.

"Proper—why!" Rodrigo asked. "Because Francesca had been too stupid

to learn swordsmanship?"

"No—because of his interest in a lady who belonged to another."

"The lady should not have taken Francesca's love so seriously as to have
become jealous. When will women understand that when they take our
admiration seriously they kill it?"

"Not at all," Dorning returned stoutly. "That is exactly the wrong

attitude. I do not understand it in you—you who are so intelligent and
sensible about other things. There are so many other things for you to
interest yourself in than in these petty love affairs."

Rodrigo straightened. He did not relish criticism. In the next instant,

realizing that Dorning was honest in his questioning and rather pleased that
he had aroused his quiet guest to such a pitch, he relaxed and asked calmly,
"What other interests do you recommend for a reckless and extravagant
gentleman, like myself, who now finds himself penniless and equipped for
nothing in the world but for amusing the ladies and for being amused by
them?"

"If you will pardon me—are you really in straightened circumstances?"

"Yes. I am in debt. Economy was not one of my father's virtues, nor did
he take the trouble to develop it in me." Rodrigo, fearing to be
misunderstood, added, "Not that I am in need of a loan, you understand. You
have done quite enough for me, and I am grateful."

"What are you thinking of doing then?"

"I can either marry the first single rich lady or widow who will have me,
or I can sell or rent this place and its contents."

"You would do neither of those two foolish things."

"Why not?" Rodrigo was curious. He was secretly rather pleased at the
personal turn the conversation had taken, for, with all his worldliness and
experience along romantic lines, it seemed that Dorning's common sense
might be valuable in considering the rather dismaying future.

"Have you ever considered entering trade?" Dorning asked tentatively.

"My father was in trade. There is nothing unpleasant about it to me.

What sort of trade?"

Thus encouraged, John Dorning revealed what was in his mind. "We—
Dorning and Son," he explained, "have gone in recently, to a very extensive
degree, for Italian antiques. My mission over here is for the purpose of
adding to our stock. Also, if possible, to acquire a man to manage that
department of our business, someone who is an expert in that line and who at
the same time is fitted to deal with our rather exclusive clientele. It occurs to
me that you might be that man, if you would care to consider it."

Rodrigo did not reply at once. He took three or four steps in silence,
thoughtfully, away from Dorning. Go to America! Enter business! He
recalled the deprecatory manner in which his father had always talked about
business and the great relief it had been for the elder Torriani to leave the
Indian trade and settle down at last to be a gentleman again. And he was very
much like his father in so many ways. The business of John Dorning, to be
sure, was art, something he, Rodrigo, loved. It was not like the mad
commercial scramble of ordinary trade. There was nothing commercial
about Dorning. Something within Rodrigo said "Go." Something in
Dorning's offer was lifting off his mind the almost physical weight that
oppressed him every time he considered the future.

"I will accept your offer and return with you to America," Rodrigo said
with quiet suddenness.

John Dorning started. He had not suspected such a quick and decisive
answer. "Fine," he said. "Can you arrange your affairs to sail with me next
week on the Italia?"

Rodrigo was sure that he could. Now that he was committed to the
plunge, he was positively gay about it. The two young men spent the rest of
the day talking the arrangements over. In the afternoon they journeyed in to
Naples in Rodrigo's car and entered an agreement with the fussy Italian real
estate agent to rent the palace of the Torrianis to the family of a young
American author who had just made a fortune out of a best-selling novel and
wished to write its sequel along the romantic shore of the Bay of Naples.

CHAPTER IV

The great floating hotel glided steadily ahead over the smooth, black
waters of the Mediterranean. Somewhere within her hull, boiler fires were
roaring and a labyrinth of machinery was driving furiously, but only a slight,
muffled throb reached the ears of the lone passenger standing at the rail
directly under the bridge. Over his head he could hear the regular tread of
the watch officer as he paced his monotonous round. In front of him was the
dark immensity of the night, broken only when he lowered his eyes to take
in the lights from the port-holes and the jagged streaks of phosphorescence
streaming back from the bow as it cut the water.

Rodrigo was quite happy. His ripening friendship with Dorning, the new
clean life into which every minute of the ship's progress was carrying him,
the cool, damp darkness that surrounded him, added to his content. He
snapped his cigarette into the Mediterranean and with a peaceful sigh walked
into the crowded, brilliantly lighted saloon in search of his friend.

The waiter was standing expectantly at Dorning's table, while Dorning,

menu card in hand, was looking about for Rodrigo. Another man sat at the
table with the American, a small, nervous, middle-aged man, who was also
fingering a menu.

"I feared you had changed your mind and leaped overboard or
something," Dorning smiled as Rodrigo approached. "I want you to meet Mr.
Mark Rosner, Rodrigo. Mr. Rosner—Count Torriani." Rodrigo bowed and
slid into his place at the table.

"Mr. Rosner is an old friend of my father's," Dorning explained. "We met

by chance at the door of the saloon."

Rosner elaborated upon the explanation in a rapid, clipped voice. "I

worked for Dorning and Son for a long time, Count Torriani. I left them five
years ago to open a shop of my own in London. I did rather well, but you
know how it is—once an American, always an American. There is no town
in the world like New York. I sold out my place in London six months ago.
Since then I have been traveling in Italy acquiring a stock, and I am on my
way back to New York to go into business there."

He directed his conversation toward Rodrigo, evidently awed a bit by the

young Italian's title and reserved manner and anxious to make an impression.
Mark Rosner was a rare Jewish type, an impractical æsthete who disliked
business life intensely but who nevertheless was consumed by the urge to
make money. The struggle had whitened his mop of unruly hair prematurely,
stooped his fat shoulders, and worn his nerves to ragged edges. The truth
was that his London venture had been a failure and his new stock had been
bought in Italy on borrowed capital. His delight at meeting John Dorning
again had been partly caused by genuine pleasure at coming upon the son of
a man he had always liked and admired and partly by the thought that he
might derive aid later from the Dornings in getting started in New York.

"Count Torriani is to become associated with us in New York," Dorning

remarked when the waiter had departed with the three orders. Dorning, now
that Rodrigo had arrived, would rather the third party were not present. He
remembered Rosner as a valuable employee, but as one who was always
timid in taking responsibility and evasive and whining when things went
badly. However, he was too kind-hearted to snub the fellow.

Rosner replied in his jerky voice, "Really? You couldn't join a concern
with a finer reputation, Count Torriani. Dorning and Son are the leaders in
their line in New York, as you probably know. Sometimes I wish I had never
left your father, John." Dorning secretly smiled at Rosner's sudden
familiarity. "But you know how it is—there is a certain satisfaction in being
on your own, in spite of the risk involved."

He went on to relate in considerable detail the difficulties that had beset

his venture in London. In the midst of his recital the food arrived. Rodrigo
and John Dorning, who were hungry and bored, fell to at once and heard
only snatches of the remainder of Rosner's querulous discourse. Englishmen
of the art world, according to Rosner, were prejudiced against Americans in
the same line of business, particularly Americans of Semitic extraction. He
gave instances of alleged discriminations against him.

"I don't suppose, though, that it's much different in New York," Rosner
admitted. "I remember many of the old-line concerns were against foreigners
there too, and I don't suppose it has changed much. I recall how Henry
Madison opposed your father's taking on that Italian sculptor, Rinaldi, and
how pleased he was when the chap fell down and had to be let out. You were
there then, weren't you, John?"

John did not look over-pleased. "Rinaldi was not the man for the job," he
said with a frown. "My father was carried away with his enthusiasm for the
man's work in clay. Rinaldi was no good out of his studio, and Madison
quickly recognized it. The fact that Rinaldi was a foreigner had nothing to do
with the matter."
 Rodrigo now listened with interest for the first time since he had sat
down at the table. He foresaw that his career with Dorning and Son might
not prove as unruffled as he had anticipated. This did not greatly annoy him.
He had little of the eccentric artistic temperament, and there was enough of
the merchant blood in him to enable him to adapt himself to office work. At
least, he hoped so. If obstacles arose, he would overcome them.

"Who is Mr. Madison?" Rodrigo asked politely.

"He is the manager of our establishment," John explained. "There is no

cause for alarm, Rodrigo. He is the most honest, fairest person alive."

Rosner, glancing furtively from one of his tablemates to the other, sensed
that he had rather put his foot into it. Why had he not remembered that
Count Torriani was a foreigner? He flushed with embarrassment and, to
change the subject, asked John, "Is your father still active in the business?"

Dorning's sensitive face clouded. He answered, "No, my father has not

been in very good health for the past year or so. He is staying at our place at
Greenwich and only gets down to the office once or twice a month."

"Then you have charge?"

"Yes—with the able assistance of Madison and the rest of our staff. It
isn't a very difficult job, as you can imagine. The long-standing reputation of
Dorning and Son and the organization my father built up don't leave a very
great deal for the head of the concern to do."

"All the same, it's quite a responsibility for a young fellow only a few
years out of college, John, and I congratulate you." What there was of
shrewdness in Mark Rosner now showed in his dark, ineffective eyes. Young
Dorning was evidently kind-hearted, and, of necessity, inexperienced. An
appeal to him for assistance by an old employee of his father's would
probably meet with a favorable response.

After dinner the two younger men contrived to rid themselves of

Rosner's company temporarily on the plea that they wished to unpack their
bags. Having accomplished this task, they drifted into the smoking-room,
where the card players were already hard at it. Waiters were running here
and there with tinkling glasses. The air was hazy with the smoke of many
cigarettes and cigars.

A corpulent gentleman with the wine-ruddy face and expansive clothes

and manners of a London theatrical producer, as indeed he was, approached
the two friends as they stood surveying the scene. "Would you two
gentlemen care to make up a table at bridge?" he asked.

Bridge was John's favorite diversion. He played a careful, serious-

minded game for pleasure rather than for profit. He looked suggestively at
Rodrigo, who shrugged affirmatively. The Italian would have been happier
at baccarat or some other continental game which moved more quickly than
bridge. But he was willing to please, and it occurred to him that his funds
would not permit his participation in baccarat as played in this smoking-
room, for a few moments' observation had shown him that the stakes were
very high.

The red-faced Englishman guided them over to a table near the stairway.
A gaunt, pale, long-haired man was already seated there, surrounded by
three tipped-up chairs. He was idly shuffling the cards and dropped them to
rise as his companion reappeared. The introductions revealed that the stout
Englishman was Gilbert Christy, producer of the Christy Revues, which
Rodrigo was familiar with as elaborate girl-and-music shows relying upon
well-drilled choruses and trick stage effects rather than cleverness for their
success. The lean Englishman was Clive Derrick, leading man in Christy's
current show. The Christy Revue was transporting itself overseas, after a
brief and rather unremunerative engagement at Rome and Naples, to try its
luck on Broadway.

"André Chariot has been filling his pockets in America," boomed

Christy, whose voice was as loud as his vest. "Why not I?"

Rodrigo agreed that the chances were excellent, being too polite to
explain that Charlot's divertissements were clever, while Christy was about
to offer America something which Ziegfeld and other native New York
producers were already doing better than anybody else in the world.