ture, and whose store of English seemed to be
comprised in a single sentence: "_Ja, ja_; Hae bane poorty vell, t'ank
yo'."

Later in the day the doctor came; and when the professional requirements
were satisfied, Griswold learned the bare facts of his succoring. It was
characteristic of the Griswold of other days that the immense obligation
under which the Griersons had placed him made him gasp and perspire
afresh.

"Who ever heard of such a thing, doctor?" he protested weakly. And then:
"How am I ever going to repay them?"

Dr. Farnham was crisply explicit. "You may leave Mr. Grierson out of
your problem. Miss Margery is an only child, and if she sees fit to turn
Mereside into a temporary hospital, he is abundantly able to indulge
her."

"Then I am indebted to the daughter, alone?"

"Entirely, I should say."

Griswold looked long and earnestly at the face of his professional
adviser. It was a good face, clearly lined, benevolent; and, above all,
trustworthy.

"Tell me one thing more, doctor, if you can. What was the motive? Was it
just heavenly good-heartedness?--or----"

The doctor's smile was the least possible shade wintry.

"When you have lived a few years longer in this world of ours, you will
not probe too deeply into motives; you will take the deed as the
sufficient exponent of the prompting behind it. If I say so much, you
will understand that I am not impugning Miss Grierson's motives. There
are times when she is the good angel of everybody in sight."

"And this is one of the times?" persisted the analyst.

"We shall say that this is one of the times: say it and stick to it,
Mr.----"

The pause after the courtesy title was significant, and Griswold filled
it promptly. "Griswold--Kenneth Griswold. Do you mean to say that you
haven't known my name, doctor?"

"We have not. We took the Good Samaritan's privilege and ransacked your
belongings--Miss Margery and I--thinking that there might be relatives
or friends who should be notified."

"And you found nothing?" queried the sick man, a cold fear gripping at
his heart.

"Absolutely nothing to tell us who you were; no cards, letters, or
memoranda of any kind. The conclusion was obvious: some one had taken
advantage of your illness on the train and had picked your pockets."

Griswold moistened his lips and swallowed hard. "There were two
suit-cases: were they lost?"

"No; they are here."

"And you found nothing in them?"

"Nothing but clothi