the office
overtime on a summer night. When Everett alighted from the train he
walked down the platform and stopped at the track crossing, uncertain as
to what direction he should take to reach a hotel. A phaeton stood near
the crossing, and a woman held the reins. She was dressed in white, and
her figure was clearly silhouetted against the cushions, though it was
too dark to see her face. Everett had scarcely noticed her, when the
switch engine came puffing up from the opposite direction, and the
headlight threw a strong glare of light on his face. Suddenly the woman
in the phaeton uttered a low cry and dropped the reins. Everett started
forward and caught the horse's head, but the animal only lifted its
ears and whisked its tail in impatient surprise. The woman sat perfectly
still, her head sunk between her shoulders and her handkerchief pressed
to her face. Another woman came out of the depot and hurried toward the
phaeton, crying, "Katharine, dear, what is the matter?"

Everett hesitated a moment in painful embarrassment, then lifted his
hat and passed on. He was accustomed to sudden recognitions in the most
impossible places, especially by women, but this cry out of the night
had shaken him.

While Everett was breakfasting the next morning, the headwaiter leaned
over his chair to murmur that there was a gentleman waiting to see him
in the parlor. Everett finished his coffee and went in the direction
indicated, where he found his visitor restlessly pacing the floor. His
whole manner betrayed a high degree of agitation, though his physique
was not that of a man whose nerves lie near the surface. He was
something below medium height, square-shouldered and solidly built. His
thick, closely cut hair was beginning to show gray about the ears, and
his bronzed face was heavily lined. His square brown hands were
locked behind him, and he held his shoulders like a man conscious of
responsibilities; yet, as he turned to greet Everett, there was an
incongruous diffidence in his address.

"Good morning, Mr. Hilgarde," he said, extending his hand; "I found your
name on the hotel register. My name is Gaylord. I'm afraid my sister
startled you at the station last night, Mr. Hilgarde, and I've come
around to apologize."

"Ah! The young lady in the phaeton? I'm sure I didn't know whether I
had anything to do with her alarm or not. If I did, it is I who owe the
apology."

The man colored a little under the dark brown of his fa