is list of
passengers had perished with the conductor; there was only left with the
operator the original of that telegram, asking to have a chair reserved
in the Pullman from Wellwater, and signed with Northwick's name, but
those different initials, which had given rise to the report of his
death.

This was the definite fact which Matt could carry back with him to
Northwick's family, and this they knew already. It settled nothing; it
left the question of his death just where it was before. But Matt
struggled with it as if it were some quite new thing, and spent himself
in trying to determine how he should present it to them. In his own mind
he had very great doubt whether Northwick was in the accident, and
whether that dispatch was not a trick, a ruse to cover up the real
course of his flight. But then there was no sense in his trying to hide
his track, for he must have known that as yet there was no pursuit. If
the telegram was a ruse, it was a ruse to conceal the fact that
Northwick was still in the country, and had not gone to Canada at all.
But Matt could not imagine any reason for such a ruse; the motive must
be one of those illogical impulses which sometimes govern criminals. In
any case, Matt could not impart his conjectures to the poor women who
must be awaiting his return with such cruel anxiety. If the man were
really dead, it would simplify the matter beyond the power of any other
fact; Matt perceived how it would mitigate the situation for his family;
he could understand how people should hold that suicide was the only
thing left for a man in Northwick's strait. He blamed himself for coming
a moment to that ground, and owned the shame of his interested motive;
but it was, nevertheless, a relief which he did not know how to refuse
when Suzette Northwick took what he had to tell as final proof that her
father was dead.

She said that she had been talking it all over with her sister, and they
were sure of it; they were prepared for it; they expected him to tell
them so.

Matt tried to have her realize that he had not told her so; and he
urged, as far as he could, the grounds for hoping that her father was
not in the accident.

She put them all aside. The difference in the initials was really no
difference; and besides, and above all, there was the fact that if her
father were anywhere alive, he must have seen the report of his death by
this time, and sent some word, made some sign for their relief. She wa