lse report of his death. Into that, however, I need
not enter. If you talked with him, as I understand you did,
for half an hour, you will, I think, have gathered that his
life has been unfortunately of little advantage either to
himself or others. But that also is my personal affair--and
his. And although in a moment of caprice, and for reasons not
yet plain to me, he revealed himself to you, he appears
still to wish to preserve the assumed name and identity that
he set up shortly after leaving Manitoba, seventeen years
ago. As far as I am concerned, I am inclined to indulge him.
But you will, of course, take your own line, and will no
doubt communicate it to me. I do not imagine that my private
affairs or my father's can be of any interest to you, but
perhaps I may say that he is at present for a few days in the
doctor's hands and that I propose as soon as his health is
re-established to arrange for his return to the States, where
his home has been for so long. I am, of course, ready to make
any arrangements for his benefit that seem wise, and that he
will accept. I hope to come up to Lake Louise to-morrow, and
shall bring with me one or two things that Lady Merton asked
me to get for her. Next week I hope she may be able and
inclined to take one or two of the usual excursions from the
hotel, if Mr. Gaddesden goes on as well as we all expect. I
could easily make the necessary arrangements for ponies,
guides, &c.

"Yours faithfully,

"GEORGE ANDERSON."

"Upon my word, a cool hand! a very cool hand!" muttered Delaine in some
perplexity, as he thrust the letter into his pocket, and strolled on
toward the lake. His mind went back to the strange nocturnal encounter
which had led to the development of this most annoying relation between
himself and Anderson. He recalled the repulsive old man, his uneducated
speech, the signs about him of low cunning and drunken living, his
rambling embittered charges against his son, who, according to him, had
turned his father out of the Manitoba farm in consequence of a family
quarrel, and had never cared since to find out whether he was alive or
dead. "Sorry to trouble you, sir, I'm sure--a genelman like
you"--obsequious old ruffian!--"but my sons were always kittle-cattle,
and George the worst of 'em all. If you would be so kind, sir, as to gie
'im a wor