on that she
had steadily avoided him, even choosing another deck for a breath of
fresh air whenever she left her patient. That she had welcomed the
accident to the emigrant as an excuse for remaining away from her
stateroom was evident. What he could not understand was, if she really
pitied and justified him, as she had done his prototype, why she should
now treat him with such suspicion. At her request he had opened his
heart and had trusted her; why then could she not forgive him for the
deceit of that first night--one for which he was not responsible?

Then a new thought chilled him like an icy wind: her avoidance of him
was only an evidence of her purpose! Thus far she had not exposed him,
because then it would be known aboard that they had shared the
stateroom together. He saw it all now. She was waiting until they
reached the dock. Then no one would be the wiser.

When the steamer entered her New York slip and the gangplank was
hoisted aboard, another thick-set, closely-knit man pushed his way
through the crowd at the rail, walked straight to the Purser and
whispered something in his ear. The next moment he had glided to where
the Nurse and fugitive were standing.

"This is Miss Jennings, isn't it? I'm from the Central Office," and he
opened his coat and displayed the gold shield. "We've just got a cable
from Hobson. He said you were on board and might help. I'm looking for
a man. We've got no clew--don't know that he's on board, but I thought
we'd look the list over. The Purser tells me that you helped the Doctor
in the steerage--says somebody had been smashed up. Got anything to
suggest?--anybody that would fit this description: 'Small man, only
five-feet-six; blue eyes'"--and he read from a paper in his hand.

"No, I don't think so. I was in the steerage, of course, four or five
days, and helped on a bad case, but I didn't notice anybody but the few
people immediately about me."

"Perhaps, then, among the first-class passengers? Anybody peculiar
there? He's a slick one, we hear, and may be working a stunt in
disguise."

"No. To tell you the truth, I was so tired when I came aboard that I
hardly spoke to any one--no one, really, except my dear Sister Teresa
here, who shared my stateroom. They have driven her out of France and
she is on her way to a convent in Quebec. I go with her as far as
Montreal."

SAM JOPLIN'S EPIGASTRIC NERVE

I

"You eat too much, Marny." It was Joplin, of Boston, who