journalist. "Tamburlaine the Great, and none other! What brings you to this distant outpost?"
Aubrey grinned at the use of his old college nickname.
"I've come to lunch with you, and borrow enough money to get home with."
"On Monday?" cried the other. "Tuesday being the day of stipend in these quarters? Nay, say not so!"
They lunched together at a quiet Italian restaurant, and Aubrey narrated tersely the adventures of the past few days. The newspaper man smoked pensively when the story was concluded.
"I'd like to see the girl," he said. "Tambo, your tale hath the ring of sincerity. It is full of sound and fury, but it signifieth something. You say your man is a second-hand bookseller?"
"Yes."
"Then I know where you'll find him."
"Nonsense!"
"It's worth trying. Go up to Leary's, 9 South Ninth. It's right on this street. I'll show you."
"Let's go," said Aubrey promptly.
"Not only that," said the other, "but I'll lend you my last V. Not for your sake, but on behalf of the girl. Just mention my name to her, will you?
"Right up the block," he pointed as they reached Chestnut Street. "No, I won't come with you,
