the doctor's hair was sprinkled with gray at
the temples, and there were dark lines beneath his eyes which told of
sorrow.

The doctor started perceptibly at the sound of Joe's voice, and dropping
his knife and fork, leaned forward with an attempt to obtain a view of
his features. This was frustrated by our hero, who had turned away, and
in a low tone was answering his interlocutrice. The doctor looked
puzzled, and continued his meal.

Presently Joe left the table and passed into the bar-room. In silence he
examined the last leaf of the register. His face flushed, his hand
trembled; he was thankful that his agitation escaped observation. He
longed to get to his little room over the stable; but the only exit was
through the apartment he had just left, and he hesitated. At the sound
of approaching footsteps he moved towards the curtain, raised it, and
met Doctor Carter face to face. They exchanged glances; neither spoke,
but the doctor looked troubled, and with a deep frown riveted his gaze
on Joe's retreating form.

"Who is that youth?" he asked, pointing toward the door through which
Joe had disappeared.

"That's Marshall." answered the landlord. "Everybody in these parts
knows him."

"Is he employed here?" was the next query.

"He runs the Camptonville stage, and there ain't a better driver in the
hull West."

"Strange!" said the doctor, evidently not satisfied with the
intelligence. "Has he been here long?" he added.

"It must be all of five years since Joe put in an appearance on this
line," returned the landlord.

"Five years," repeated the doctor dreamily. He looked as though some
painful reminiscence had been recalled to him.

"I'd like to know what you've found to interest you in that fellow,"
said Fulton, who now stood at his friend's elbow. "You could scarcely
eat for watching him, and I failed to make you listen when I spoke to
you."

"It is a resemblance to a person whom I once knew well--nothing
more--queer, is it not, with what persistency a familiar face will
sometimes haunt us?" returned the doctor, assuming an off-hand air.

"This fellow's double must surely have robbed you--for you looked ready
to spring upon him just now when he went out," said Fulton, jocosely.

"Robbed me?" repeated the doctor; "ah, yes--he did, indeed--but you
shall hear about it another time." And they seated themselves at the
card table.

When Joe closed the door behind him, he moved slowly away. His eyes were