ons were ingenious and natural--it was the act
of an intelligent, quick-witted woman.

Mr. Breeze was prompt in acting upon his intuition, whether right or
wrong. He took up his pen, wrote on the margin of the proof, "Print as
corrected," said to the boy carelessly, "The corrections are all right,"
and dismissed him quickly.

The corrected paragraph which appeared in the "Informer" the next
morning seemed to attract little public attention, the greater
excitement being the suicide of the imprisoned bully and the effect it
might have upon the prosecution of other suspected parties, against whom
the dead man had been expected to bear witness.

Mr. Breeze was unable to obtain any information regarding the desperado
Bodine's associates and relations; his correction of the paragraph had
made the other members of the staff believe he had secret and superior
information regarding the fugitive, and he thus was estopped from
asking questions. But he felt himself justified now in demanding fuller
information from Roberts at the earliest opportunity.

For this purpose he came home earlier that night, hoping to find the
night watchman still on his first beat in the lower halls. But he was
disappointed. He was amazed, however, on reaching his own landing, to
find the passage piled with new luggage, some of that ruder type of
rolled blanket and knapsack known as a "miner's kit." He was still more
surprised to hear men's voices and the sound of laughter proceeding
from the room that was always locked. A sudden sense of uneasiness and
disgust, he knew not why, came over him.

He passed quickly into his room, shut the door sharply, and lit the gas.
But he presently heard the door of the locked room open, a man's voice,
slightly elevated by liquor and opposition, saying, "I know what's due
from one gen'leman to 'nother"--a querulous, objecting voice saying,
"Hole on! not now," and a fainter feminine protest, all of which were
followed by a rap on his door.

Breeze opened it to two strangers, one of whom lurched forward
unsteadily with outstretched hand. He had a handsome face and figure,
and a certain consciousness of it even in the abandon of liquor; he
had an aggressive treacherousness of eye which his potations had not
subdued. He grasped Breeze's hand tightly, but dropped it the next
moment perfunctorily as he glanced round the room.

"I told them I was bound to come in," he said, without looking at
Breeze, "and say 'Howdy!'