hereabouts, Mr. Hayden.
I spent nearly an hour at Baldpate Inn--alone. You see, I was the first
of our amiable little party to arrive. Let me make you welcome. Are you
staying to dinner? You must."

"I'm not," growled Hayden.

"Don't believe him, Mr. Magee," sneered the mayor, "he doesn't always
say what he means. He's going to stay, all right."

"Yes, you'd better, Mr. Hayden," advised Bland.

"Huh--delighted, I'm sure," snapped Hayden. He strolled over to the
wall, and in the light of the fire examined a picture nonchalantly.

"The pride of our inn," Mr. Magee, following, explained pleasantly, "the
admiral. It is within these very walls in summer that he plays his
famous game of solitaire."

Hayden wheeled quickly, and looked Magee in the eyes. A flush crossed
his face, leaving it paler than before. He turned away without speaking.

"Peters," said Magee, "you heard what Mr. Hayden said. An extra plate at
dinner, please. I must leave you for a moment, gentlemen." He saw that
their eyes followed him eagerly--full of suspicion, menacing. "We shall
all meet again, very shortly."

Hayden slipped quickly between Magee and the stairs. The latter faced
him smilingly, reflecting as he did so that he could love this man but
little.

"Who are you?" said Hayden again. "What is your business here?"

Magee laughed outright, and turned to the other men.

"How unfortunate," he said, "this gentleman does not know the manners
and customs of Baldpate in winter. Those are questions, Mr. Hayden, that
we are never impolite enough to ask of one another up here." He moved on
toward the stairs, and reluctantly Hayden got out of his path. "I am
very happy," he added, "that you are to be with us at dinner. It will
not take you long to accustom yourself to our ways, I'm sure."

He ran up the stairs and passed through number seven out upon the
balcony. Trudging through the snow, he soon sighted the room of
Professor Bolton. And as he did so, a little shiver that was not due to
atmospheric conditions ran down his spine. For one of the professor's
windows stood wide open, bidding a welcome to the mountain storm. Peters
had spoken the truth. Once more that tight little, right little package
was within Mr. Magee's ken.

He stepped through the open window, and closed it after him. By the
table sat Professor Bolton, wrapped in coats and blankets, reading by
the light of a solitary candle. The book was held almost touching his
nose--a r