very well. You get tired of it after a while."

"I wish I could travel," said the girl, gazing idly out of the window.

"What has become of your friend, Mr. Hurstwood?" she suddenly asked,
bethinking herself of the manager, who, from her own observation, seemed
to contain promising material.

"He's here in town. What makes you ask about him?"

"Oh, nothing, only he hasn't been here since you got back."

"How did you come to know him?"

"Didn't I take up his name a dozen times in the last month?"

"Get out," said the drummer, lightly. "He hasn't called more than half a
dozen times since we've been here."

"He hasn't, eh?" said the girl, smiling. "That's all you know about it."

Drouet took on a slightly more serious tone. He was uncertain as to
whether she was joking or not.

"Tease," he said, "what makes you smile that way?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Have you seen him recently?"

"Not since you came back," she laughed.

"Before?"

"Certainly."

"How often?"

"Why, nearly every day."

She was a mischievous newsmonger, and was keenly wondering what the
effect of her words would be.

"Who did he come to see?" asked the drummer, incredulously.

"Mrs. Drouet."

He looked rather foolish at this answer, and then attempted to correct
himself so as not to appear a dupe.

"Well," he said, "what of it?"

"Nothing," replied the girl, her head cocked coquettishly on one side.

"He's an old friend," he went on, getting deeper into the mire.

He would have gone on further with his little flirtation, but the taste
for it was temporarily removed. He was quite relieved when the girl's
named was called from below.

"I've got to go," she said, moving away from him airily.

"I'll see you later," he said, with a pretence of disturbance at being
interrupted.

When she was gone, he gave freer play to his feelings. His face, never
easily controlled by him, expressed all the perplexity and disturbance
which he felt. Could it be that Carrie had received so many visits
and yet said nothing about them? Was Hurstwood lying? What did the
chambermaid mean by it, anyway? He had thought there was something odd
about Carrie's manner at the time. Why did she look so disturbed when
he had asked her how many times Hurstwood had called? By George! He
remembered now. There was something strange about the whole thing.

He sat down in a rocking-chair to think the better, drawing up one leg
on his knee and frowning mightily. His min