ng
with him, but he said he was too sick. Then he claimed to have a
telegram callin' him East, but he never did. I reckon he must 've got
cold feet 'bout somethin'--enyhow he's gone."

"And Miss La Rue?"

"Sure; she took the same train," eager now to divulge all he knew.
"But that ain't her real name--it's a kind o' long name, an' begins
with C. I saw it in a letter she left up-stairs, but I couldn't make
it all out. She's married."

The eyes of Westcott and Miss Donovan met. Here was a bit of strange
news--the La Rue woman married, and to a man with a long name beginning
with C. The same thought occurred to them both, yet it was evidently
useless to question Timmons any longer. He would know nothing, and
comprehend less. The girl looked tired, completely worn out, and the
affair could rest until morning.

"Take Miss Donovan to a room," Westcott said shortly, "and I'll run
up-stairs and have another look at Cavendish."

"At who?"

"Cavendish, the wounded man we just carried in."

"Well, that's blamed funny. Say, I don't remember ever hearin' that
name before in all my life till just now. Come ter think of it, I
believe that was the name in that La Rue girl's letter. I got it yere
in the desk; it's torn some, an' don't mean nothin' to me; sounds
kinder nutty." He threw open a drawer, rummaging within, but without
pausing in speech, "Then a fellow blew in yere this mornin' off the
Limited, asking about you, Jim, an' danged if I don't believe he said
his name was Cavendish. The register was full so he didn't write it
down, but that was the name all right. And now you tote in another
one. What is this, anyhow--a family reunion?"

"You say a man by that name was here--asking for me?"

"Yep; I reckon he's asleep up-stairs, for he never showed up at supper."

"In what room, Pete?"

"Nine."

Westcott, with a swift word of excuse to Stella, dashed into the hall,
and disappeared up the stairway, taking three steps at a time. A
moment later those below heard him pounding at a door; then his voice
sounded:

"This is Jim Westcott; open up."

Timmons stood gazing blankly at the empty stair-case, mopping his face
with a bandanna handkerchief. Then he removed his horn-rimmed
spectacles, and polished them, as though what mind he possessed had
become completely dazed.

"Well, I'll be jiggered," he confessed audibly. "What's a comin' now,
I wonder?"

He turned around and noticed Miss Donovan, the s