ushed his chair back. His
mouth opened in an involuntary gasp. Josie noted his agitation but she
could but admire his quick command of himself. In a moment his face had
assumed its normal suavity. It was evident that he had decided that he
had been startled with nothing but a resemblance. This man in the hotel
dining room could not be his stepbrother. Stephen was dead.

Hunt's eyes traveled uneasily to the lady whose back was towards him.
Those lines were unmistakable! That poise of the small head, the way
the hair grew at the nape of the neck--it was Mary Waller, his
brother's wife! Wildly he looked at the third person at the table.
Where had he seen her before? He couldn't for his life remember, but
that countenance was familiar.

There were certain things about Chester Hunt that Josie could not help
admiring, archvillain though she knew him to be. His good looks of
course she must approve of, his debonair grace and easy bearing; but
what she respected about him was his quick grasp of a situation. She
saw the moment he recognized the fact that he was in the same room with
his long lost stepbrother and his wife he became convinced the game was
up and he must make the best of it and begin salvaging what he could
from the wreck he had made of his affairs through his inordinate
ambition and brotherly affection was his cue. He immediately jumped
from his seat and hurried across the room, his hands out and his face
beaming with a joy that he assumed with the ease of a consummate actor.

"Stephen! My brother! I am overcome with joy! My boy, we thought you
were dead--Mary and I. I am here now to take Mary from the sanitarium
where they have effected a most marvelous cure on the poor girl. My
dear brother! My dear sister!"

Funny Stephen did not respond. What could they know? He looked again at
the little person seated at the table with his brother and his wife.
Where on earth had he seen her before? What connection had she with
this affair? He hardly expected much warmth from Mary. She had been
queer of late, but Stephen had always been devoted to him.

"Tell me where you have been, dear boy. Don't be so--so mysterious. I
have been looking after your affairs to the best of my ability."

"Yes?" was all Captain Waller would say.

"You might know I would. Stephen, you are unappreciative. Where have
you been hiding? Why am I, your own brother, the last person to hear
that you are alive and, I hope, well and returned to the