shade he had to
wear over his eyes; I suppose his face was much the same. Only I didn't
get many chances to see it, and all his jolly ways and smiles were gone,
so that made a difference. I was so glad when I saw his baggage coming
up, for there's never been a gentleman so popular with us girls as Mr.
Farnham; but except for his giving me something when he went away, he
might almost as well not have been in the hotel."

"Would you have recognised his voice," I asked, "if you had not seen
him?"

"I would when he was well and like himself, sir, in a minute, but not
this time, because of the bad cold he'd got on the voyage, which he said
was the worst he'd ever had. He did nothing but cough and wheeze, and
could only speak in a hoarse sort of whisper."

These details were all I could extract from "Ginnie" the chambermaid;
but before I left the hotel it occurred to me to examine the visitors'
book for Farnham's name, wishing to look at the handwriting which, if
his, I felt sure I could not fail to recognise. As I searched the pages
vainly I thought with some compunction of Farnham himself, remembering
how I had hardly known, on the evening of our unexpected meeting in
London, whether or not to be genuinely pleased to see him. I had feared
to have too much of his society during the few hours at the St. James's
Theatre; yet ever since, by a strange irony of fate, I had been doomed
to pursue him, to think of little that was not in some way or other
connected with Harvey Farnham and his affairs.

Evidently he had not considered it worth his while to write in the
visitors' book on this occasion, though I found that he had scrawled his
name when staying in the hotel some months before. This counted for
nothing definite, of course; and as for the taciturnity of which the
chambermaid complained, the ailments from which my poor friend was
reported to have been suffering were quite enough to account for that.
Still, through her words and those of the man in the bar, I had gained
my only real evidence--if evidence it might be called--and as such I
treasured the scanty information.

Having by dint of some exertion found the cabman who had driven Farnham
from the hotel to the railway depot, I made sure that his luggage had
been "checked" to Denver, and so set forth again with a feeling that I
had something to go upon.

Never had a journey seemed to me so endless. After Chicago the
interminable plains got upon my nerves, and I lo