ver and spoke to my chance acquaintance, who, without
turning his head, thrust a match over his shoulder. The man with the
face of a butler lighted the most villainous pipe I ever beheld. I
wondered if they knew each other. But, closely as I watched, I saw no
sign from either. I turned my collar up and snuggled down. There was
no need of his seeing _me_.

Then my thoughts reverted to the ten of hearts again. My ten of
hearts! The wrinkle of a chill ran up and down my spine! My ten of
hearts!

Hastily I took out the card and examined the _back_ of it. It was an
uncommonly handsome back, representing Diana, the moon, and the
midnight sky. A horrible supposition came to me: supposing they looked
at the back as well as at the face of the card? And again, supposing I
was miles away from the requisite color and design? I was staggered.
Here was a pretty fix! I had never even dreamed of such a contingency.
Hang it! I now wished I had stuck to my original plan, and gone to the
theater. Decidedly I was in for it; there was no backing down at this
late hour, unless I took the return train for Jersey City; and I
possessed too much stubbornness to surrender to any such weakness.
Either I should pass the door-committee, or I shouldn't; of one thing I
was certain--

"Blankshire!" bawled the trainman; then the train slowed down and
finally came to a stop.

No turning back for me now. I picked up my suit-case and got out. On
the platform I saw the curio-shop fellow again. Tramping on ahead, the
smell from his villainous pipe assailing my nostrils, was the man who
had asked for a match. The former stood undecided for a moment, and
during this space of time he caught sight of me. He became erect, gave
me a sudden sardonic laugh, and swiftly disappeared into the dark. All
this was uncommonly disquieting; in vain I stared into the blackness
that had swallowed him. What could he be doing here at Blankshire? I
didn't like his laugh at all; there was at once a menace and a
challenge in it.

"Any baggage, sir?" asked one of the station hands.

"No." But I asked him to direct me to a hotel. He did so.

I made my way down the street. The wind had veered around and was
coming in from the sea, pure and cold. The storm-clouds were broken
and scudding like dark ships, and at times there were flashes of
radiant moonshine.

The fashionable hotel was full. So I plodded through the drifts to the
unfashionable hotel