t in, "I have heard--did I read it in a
paper?--that a picture of Napoleon hangs above your desk. They say that
you see in your own career, a similarity to his. May I ask--is it true?"

"No, miss," replied Cargan. "That's a joking story some newspaper guy
wrote up. It ain't got no more truth in it than most newspaper yarn. No,
I ain't no Napoleon. There's lots of differences between us--one in
particular." He raised his voice, and glared at the company around the
table. "One in particular. The reformers got Napoleon at the end."

"But the end is not yet," suggested Mr. Magee, smiling.

Mr. Cargan gave him a sudden and interested look.

"I ain't worrying," he replied. "And don't you, young fellow."

Mr. Magee responded that he was not one to indulge in needless worry,
and a silence fell upon the group. Peters entered with coffee, and was
engaged in pouring it when Mr. Bland started up wildly from the table
with an expression of alarm on his face.

"What's that?" he cried.

The others looked at him in wonder.

"I heard steps up-stairs," he declared.

"Nonsense," said Mr. Cargan, "you're dreaming. This peace and quiet has
got to you, Bland."

Without replying, Mr. Bland rose and ran up the stair. In his absence
the Hermit of Baldpate spoke into Magee's ear.

"I ain't one to complain," he said; "livin' alone as much as I do I've
sort of got out of the habit, having nobody to complain to. But if folks
keep coming and coming to this hotel, I've got to resign as cook. Seems
as though every few minutes there's a new face at the table, and it's a
vital matter to me."

"Cheer up, Peters," whispered Mr. Magee. "There are only two more keys
to the inn. There will be a limit to our guests."

"What I'm getting at is," replied Mr. Peters, "there's a limit to my
endurance."

Mr. Bland came down-stairs. His face was very pale as he took his seat,
but in reply to Cargan's question he remarked that he must have been
mistaken.

"It was the wind, I guess," he said.

The mayor made facetious comment on Mr. Bland's "skittishness", and Mr.
Max also indulged in a gibe or two. These the haberdasher met with a wan
smile. So the dinner came to an end, and the guests of Baldpate sat
about while Mr. Peters removed all traces of it from the table. Mr.
Magee sought to talk to Miss Norton, but found her nervous and distrait.

"Has Mr. Bland frightened you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I have other things to think of," she repl