ons of the Massachusetts Third might
attract attention."

"Oh, my cloak covers it," and he threw it carelessly over his shoulders.

Penhallow said, "I have confessed defeat--you may thank Ann Penhallow."

"Yes--an unfortunate situation, James. May I have another cigar? Thanks."

"Sorry I have no whisky, Grey."

"And I--How it pours! What a downfall!"

The Colonel was becoming more and more outwardly polite.

"Good-bye, Henry."

"_Au revoir_," said the younger man.

Penhallow went with his brother-in-law down the long corridor, neither
man speaking again. As they passed Josiah, Penhallow said, "I shall want
my horse at five, and shall want you with me." At the head of the stairs
he dismissed his visitor without a further word. Then he turned back
quickly to Josiah and said in a low voice, "Follow that man--don't lose
him. Take your time. It is important--a matter of life and death to
me--to know where he lives. Quick now--I trust you."

"Yes, sir." He was gone.

Grey feeling entirely safe walked away in the heavy rain with a mind
at ease and a little sorry as a soldier for the hapless situation with
which Penhallow had had to struggle. When we have known men only in the
every-day business of life or in ordinary social relations, we may quite
fail to credit them with qualities which are never called into activity
except by unusual circumstances. Grey, an able engineer, regarded
Penhallow as a rather slow thinker, a good man of business, and now as a
commonplace, well-mannered officer. He smiled as he thought how his
sister had made her husband in this present predicament what algebraists
call a "negligible quantity." He would have been less easy had he known
that the man he left felt keenly a sense of imperilled honour and of
insult which his relation to Grey forbade him to avenge. He had become a
man alert, observant, and quick to see his way and to act.

Josiah, with all his hunting instincts aroused, loitered idly after Grey
in the rain, one of the scores of lazy, unnoticeable negroes. He was gone
all the afternoon, and at eight o'clock found Penhallow in his room. "Did
you find where he lives?" asked the Colonel.

"That man, he lives at 229 Sixteenth Street. Two more live there. They
was in and out all day--and he went to shops and carried things away--"

"What kind of shops?"

"Where they sell paper and pens--and 'pothecaries."

"Sit down--you look tired." It was plain that they were soon about to