irs till I show you where you're put. I've turned off two men to
let you have the best room in the house."

Beth had to smile. She had never felt so helpless in her life--or so
amused. She followed Mrs. Dick obediently, finding the two-bed room
above to be a bright, new-smelling apartment of acceptable size and
situation. In answer to a score of rapid-fire questions on the part of
Mrs. Dick, she imparted as much as Van already knew concerning herself
and her quest.

Mrs. Dick became her friend forthwith, then hastened downstairs to the
kitchen. Van and Beth presently took breakfast together, while Elsa,
with a borrowed needle and thread, was busied with some minor repairing
of garments roughly used the day before. Other boarders and lodgers of
the house had already eaten and gone, to resume their swirl in the
maelstrom of the camp.

For a time the two thus left alone in the dining-room appeased their
appetites in silence. Van watched the face of the girl for a time and
finally spoke.

"I'll let you know whatever I hear about your brother, if there is any
more to hear. Meantime you'll have to remain here and wait."

She was silent for a moment, reflecting on, the situation.

"You took my suitcase away from Mr. Bostwick, you'll remember," she
said, "and left it where we got the horses."

"It will be here to-day," he answered. "I arranged for that with Dave."

"Oh. But of course you cannot tell when Mr. Bostwick may appear."

"His movements couldn't be arranged so conveniently, otherwise he
wouldn't appear at all."

She glanced at him, startled.

"Not come at all? But I need him! Besides, he's my---- I expect him
to go and find my brother. And the trunk checks are all in his
pocket--wait!--no they're not, they're in my suitcase after all."

"You're in luck," he assured her blandly, "for Searle has doubtless
lost all his pockets."

"Lost his pockets?" she echoed. "Perhaps you mean the convicts took
them--took his clothing--everything he had."

"Everything except his pleasant manner," Van agreed. "They have plenty
of that of their own."

She was lost for a moment in reflection.

"Poor Searle! Poor Mr. Bostwick!"

Van drank the last of his coffee.

"Was Searle the only man you knew in all New York?"

She colored. "Certainly not. Of course not. Why do you ask such a
question?"

"I was trying to understand the situation, but I give it up." He
looked in her eyes with mock gravity, a