ust--the game's up."

He stared out of the window at the approaching guest, who, escorted by
Tom's brother Tim, was climbing the road toward Boswell's Inn at a pace
which indicated no pressing anxiety to arrive. As the pair drew nearer,
Tom could see that the stranger was a rather peculiar-looking person. Of
medium height, as thin as a lath, with a nearly colourless face in which
was set a pair of black eyes with dark circles round them, the man had
somewhat the appearance of an invalid; yet an air of subdued nervous
energy about him in a measure offset the suggestion of ill-health. He
was surveying Boswell's Inn as he approached it in a comprehensive way
which seemed to take in every feature of its appearance.

Across the desk in the small lobby the newcomer spoke curtly. "Good
room and a bath? I want an absolutely quiet room where I get no
kitchen noises or ballroom dancing. Windows with a breeze--if you've
got such a thing."

"I can't give you the bath," Tom answered regretfully, "because we
haven't got one that goes with any room in the house. But you can have
plenty of hot and cold, in cans. The room will be quiet, all right. And
we always have a breeze up here, if there is one anywhere in the world.
Shall I show you?"

"Lead on," assented the stranger. He had not offered to register, though
Tom had extended to him a freshly dipped pen.

"He's going to make sure first," thought Tom, recognizing a sign of the
experienced traveller. He led the way himself, feeling, for some
reason, unwilling to hand young Tim the key and allow him to exploit the
rooms. As they mounted the stairs, Tom was rapidly considering. He had
brought along three keys--rather an unusual act on his part. It was hard
to say why he felt it necessary to bestow any special attention upon
this guest, who certainly was by no means of an imposing appearance, and
whose hot-weather dress was as careless as his manner.

He opened the door of the first room, and the stranger looked in
silently. "I'll show you another before you decide," said Tom hurriedly,
without waiting for a comment.

This was not his best empty room, and he felt somehow that the man who
wanted a room with a bath and a breeze knew it. He led the way on along
the hall to a corner room in the front. This was his second best. Tom
always preferred to reserve his choicest for a chance millionaire or a
possible wealthy society lady--though Heaven knew that, during the six
weeks the Inn