ON the morning of the appointed day I awoke in blessed unconsciousness and lay staring at the ceiling. Then the realization of what was before me came winging back, and the bottom seemed to drop out of my stomach. I suppose it was much the same feeling as that experienced by a murderer on the morning of his execution. The worst of it was, our stunt was not to be pulled off until four o’clock, the most crowded time on upper Broadway, and I had all those miserable hours to put in beforehand. My breakfast choked me.
Every detail having been completed the night before, there was nothing for Mme. Storey and I to do but proceed to the office in our own characters and attend to our usual business.
During the day that amazing woman, my mistress, gave out interviews, talked over the telephone, an
