had so often groped and found
nothing. This man was indubitably clever, and to a less educated eye
than Gwynne's his face would appeal and fascinate. His magnetism was
superlative.

"My dear Mr. Gwynne!" he exclaimed. "Believe me when I say that this is
one of the most satisfactory moments of my life. I was forced to come to
this God-forsaken hole last night, and had it not been for you I should
have taken the morning train back to the city. But when I heard that you
were in town--you were pointed out to me as we both left the train--I
knew that my opportunity had come. And--my dear young gentleman--I throw
away no opportunities; I throw away no opportunities."

By this time Gwynne had steered him into the largest of the chairs, and
offered him his choice of the whiskies. The judge, after an instant's
hesitation, accepted the Scotch; and Gwynne felt that he had a tactful
and dangerous man to deal with.

"Excellent!" exclaimed the judge, and he smacked his lips. He inhaled
the aroma of the cigar voluptuously. "But my dear old friend, Judge
Leslie, whom I ran in to see for a few moments this morning, told
me--with his customary humor--that you were as remarkable for the
superior quality of your whiskey and tobacco as for the many personal
qualities that have so rapidly endeared you to the citizens of
Rosewater."

"Thanks," said Gwynne.

The judge changed his tactics instantly. "I cannot beat about in the
dark and merely turn myself loose in pleasant generalities, Mr. Gwynne,"
he said, gravely. "I am going to tell you at once that I am positive you
are Elton Gwynne. Judge Leslie would give me no satisfaction this
morning, but I needed none. I happened to be employed in old Colton's
bank in my younger days--as secretary--and although that was a long time
ago--a long time ago!--it came back to me, when I began to hear so much
about our new rancher, that his full name was John Elton Cecil Gwynne,
and that he was the only son of his mother. Or--if impressions are
confused after so long an interval--I may have gathered the last fact
from James Otis, whom I knew very well. He and Hi, indeed, I may
honestly say, were among my few intimate friends, despite some disparity
in years. So, I have a double interest and, I modestly hope, claim upon
you. The former at least has been accentuated since yesterday, when your
likeness to Hi struck me very painfully. You are a vast improvement, I
grant, for Hi was as ugly as mud and as cr