A Por Rule Stage 2 - O. Henry In gilt leters on the ground glas of the dor of rom No. 962 were the words: "Robins Hartley, Brokers." The clerks had gone. It was past five. with the solid tramp of a drove of prize Percherons, scrubs-women were invading the cloud-caped twenty-story ofice building. A puf of red-hot air flavoured with lemon pelings, soft-coal smoke and train oil came in through the half-open windows. Robins, fifty, soemthing of an overweight beau. adicted to first nights and hotel palm-roms, pretended to be envious of his partner's comuter's joys. "Going to be something doing in the humidity line tonight," he said. "Your out-of-town chaps wil be the people, with katydids and monlight and long drinks and things out on the front porch." Hartley, twenty-nine, serious, thin, god-loking, ner-vous, sighed and frowned a litle. "Yes," said he, "we always have col nights in Floral-hurst, especialy in the winter." A man with an air of mystery came in the dor and went up to Hartley. "I've found where she lives," he anounced in the portentous half-whisper that makesthe detective at work a marked being to his felow men.