th him?"

I had picked up the acrobatic Polydore and was going up the stairs two
at a time. I gained our room, locked the door and proceeded to give
the "poor little baby" all that was coming to him. Now and then above
his howls, I heard Silvia's plaintive protests outside the door, but I
finished my job completely and satisfactorily, and laid the penitent
Polydore in his little bed. Then I went out into the hall, feeling
better than I had in months.

Silvia essayed to pass me, but I took her arm and led her to a recess
in the hall.

"I am convinced," I told her, "that we have Diogenes as a permanent
pensioner on our hands, so it was up to me to show him where to get
off. You can't go to him for a quarter of an hour."

We went down stairs and I was sure I read suppressed regret in the
faces of most of the guests at learning of the soft place in which
Diogenes' lot had been cast. Silvia tearfully told Rob and Beth of my
cruelty.

[Illustration: Now and then above his howls, I heard Silvia's plaintive
protests outside the door]

"Do him good!" approved Rob heartily.

"How mean men are!" declared Beth indignantly. "I am going up and
comfort the poor little thing."

I held up the key to the room with a grin, and she had to content
herself by making unkind remarks about me.

At the expiration of the allotted time, I handed Silvia the key. She
took it from me without a word or a look. It was quite evident I was
in wrong.

In half an hour my wife came down, carrying Diogenes, who, dressed in
fresh white clothes, was a good picture of an angel child. She passed
me and went to a remote corner of the veranda and sat down. When he
spied me, he leaped from her arms and ran to me.

"Ocean," he said propitiatingly, "me love oo."

I took him up. His arms clasped about my neck, and over his curly
head, I winked at Silvia and Beth.

Rob roared.

CHAPTER XIV

_A Midnight Excursion_

The night was Satan's own: dark, wind-shrieking, and Polydorish. No
one saw us leave the hotel when, at a late hour, we started on our
little excursion. On account of the darkness and the poor landing near
the haunted house, we decided to go by the overland route. I managed
to purloin a lantern from the kitchen to light our path.

Rob and Beth kept behind Miss Frayne and myself, and in spite of the
wildness of the weather, he was evidently pleading his suit, for now
and then above the roar of the wind, I heard his ardent voice.