Jack Mason, a young man of twenty-one years, was intently watching a billiard game in progress at a fashionable club in New York City. It was a hot sultry day in June and he was wondering how people could enjoy knocking a bunch of balls around a table and getting all heated up. He had about decided to take a run in his motor when a messenger boy handed him a message. It was from his father bidding him to come at once to his office. His father was president of a bank in New York and independently rich. Mason thrust the message in his pocket, musing as he did so. "I'm in for a call from Dad, he's probably read about the scrape the bunch and I got into last week." Calling one of the club members aside he demanded: "Say, Smithy, how did the story of my automobile accident leak out in the papers?" "Don't know, Jack," his friend replied; "you know as much about that as I do." "Thought I had that automobile affair hushed up," grumbled Mason.