red his
thanks and departed.

He wandered aimlessly for a while, but the charm of the town had
vanished; he gazed with no interest upon quaint bits most attractive
yesterday, and stolidly regarded now those happy faces he had liked so
much but a short time before. He shook himself; this would not do; but
the work would soon cure him of vain imaginings.

He returned to the hotel and settled with the landlady. Betty Dalrymple
was gone. Of course, there could be no denying Sir Charles and his lady;
one of the young girl's place and position in the world could not, with
reason or good grace, refuse the governor's hospitality. Mr.
Heatherbloom was hardly a suitable chaperon. But she had left a hasty
and altogether charming note for him which he read the last few moments
he spent in the courtyard room. "Come soon;" that was the substance of
it. What more could mortal have asked? Mr. Heatherbloom gazed at an
empty window where he had last seen her (had they been there only
twenty-four hours?), then he took a bit of painting on ivory from his
pocket and wrapped the message around it. Before noon he had engaged
cheap but neat lodgings at the home of an old negro woman.

Several days passed. After waiting in vain for him to call at the
governor's mansion, Betty Dalrymple drove herself to the hotel; here she
learned that he had gone without leaving an address; a message from Sir
Charles for Mr. Heatherbloom, formally offering to put the latter up at
government house, had not been delivered. Mr. Heatherbloom had failed to
call for his mail.

"Really, my dear, such solicitude!" murmured the governor's wife, when
Miss Dalrymple came out of the hotel. "An ordinary secret-service man,
too."

"Oh, no; not an ordinary one," said the girl a little confusedly. She
had not taken the liberty of speaking of Mr. Heatherbloom's private
affairs to her august hosts. His true name, or his story, were his to
reveal when or where he saw fit. In taking her into his confidence he
had sealed her lips until such time as she had his permission to speak.

"Well, don't worry about the man," observed the elder lady rather
loftily. "There has been a big reward offered, of course, and he'll
appear in due time to claim it."

"He'll not," began Betty Dalrymple indignantly, and stopped.

She had been obliged to explain in some way Mr. Heatherbloom's presence,
and the subterfuge he had himself employed toward her on the _Nevski_
had been the only one th