ect. The
pert young clerk retired, and returned to lead the way to the bank
parlor. Cass's heart sank again as he was confronted by a dark,
iron-gray man--in dress, features, speech, and action--uncompromisingly
opposed to Cass--his ring and his romance. When the young man had told
his story and produced his treasure he paused. The banker scarcely
glanced at it, but said, impatiently:

"Well, your papers?"

"My papers?"

"Yes. Proof of your identity. You say your name is Cass Beard. Good!
What have you got to prove it? How can I tell who you are?"

To a sensitive man there is no form of suspicion that is as bewildering
and demoralizing at the moment as the question of his identity. Cass
felt the insult in the doubt of his word, and the palpable sense of his
present inability to prove it. The banker watched him keenly but not
unkindly.

"Come," he said at length, "this is not my affair; if you can legally
satisfy the lady for whom I am only agent, well and good. I believe you
can; I only warn you that you must. And my present inquiry was to keep
her from losing her time with impostors, a class I don't think you
belong to. There's her card. Good day."

"MISS MORTIMER."

It was _not_ the banker's daughter. The first illusion of Blazing Star
was rudely dispelled. But the care taken by the capitalist to shield
her from imposture indicated a person of wealth. Of her youth and
beauty Cass no longer thought.

The address given was not distant. With a beating heart he rung the
bell of a respectable-looking house, and was ushered into a private
drawing-room. Instinctively he felt that the room was only temporarily
inhabited; an air peculiar to the best lodgings, and when the door
opened upon a tall lady in deep mourning, he was still more convinced
of an incongruity between the occupant and her surroundings. With a
smile that vacillated between a habit of familiarity and ease, and a
recent restraint, she motioned him to a chair.

"Miss Mortimer" was still young, still handsome, still fashionably
dressed, and still attractive. From her first greeting to the end of
the interview Cass felt that she knew all about him. This relieved him
from the onus of proving his identity, but seemed to put him vaguely at
a disadvantage. It increased his sense of inexperience and
youthfulness.

"I hope you will believe," she began, "that the few questions I have to
ask you are to satisfy my own heart, and for no other purpose." She
s