men about me looking
my way.

I attempted to smile, but instead, shuddered painfully, as I raised my
hand and pointed down at the street.

"They are imitating the man," I cried; "my husband and--and the person
he went out with. It looked dreadful to me; that is all."

One of the gentlemen immediately said some kind words to me, and another
smiled in a very encouraging way. But their attention was soon diverted,
and so was mine by the entrance of a man in semi-uniform, who was
immediately addressed as Clausen.

I knew his face. He was one of the doorkeepers; the oldest employee
about the hotel, and the one best liked. I had often exchanged words
with him myself.

Mr. Slater at once put his question:

"Has Mr. Brotherson passed your door at any time to-night?"

"Mr. Brotherson! I don't remember, really I don't," was the unexpected
reply. "It's not often I forget. But so many people came rushing in
during those few minutes, and all so excited--"

"Before the excitement, Clausen. A little while before, possibly just
before."

"Oh, now I recall him! Yes, Mr. Brotherson went out of my door not many
minutes before the cry upstairs. I forgot because I had stepped back
from the door to hand a lady the muff she had dropped, and it was at
that minute he went out. I just got a glimpse of his back as he passed
into the street."

"But you are sure of that back?"

"I don't know another like it, when he wears that big coat of his. But
Jim can tell you, sir. He was in the cafe up to that minute, and that's
where Mr. Brotherson usually goes first."

"Very well; send up Jim. Tell him I have some orders to give him."

The old man bowed and went out.

Meanwhile, Mr. Slater had exchanged some words with the two officials,
and now approached me with an expression of extreme consideration. They
were about to excuse me from further participation in this informal
inquiry. This I saw before he spoke. Of course they were right. But I
should greatly have preferred to stay where I was till George came back.

However, I met him for an instant in the hall before I took the
elevator, and later I heard in a round-about way what Jim and some
others about the house had to say of Mr. Brotherson.

He was an habitue of the hotel, to the extent of dining once or twice a
week in the cafe, and smoking, afterwards, in the public lobby. When he
was in the mood for talk, he would draw an ever-enlarging group about
him, but at other times he w