ver here for breakfast in the morning?"

"You want me?"

"Certainly."

"I'd like to come very much."

"Then I'll expect you." She followed him to the door when he had put
on his things, and he made no objection when she asked that the man be
allowed to carry his bag around to the other house. When he glanced
back, after reaching the walk, he saw her standing inside the door,
watching through the glass after him.

When he had dismissed Simons and reentered the house on Astor Street,
he found no evidences of any disturbance while he had been gone. On
the second floor, to the east of the room which had been his father's,
was a bedroom which evidently had been kept as a guest chamber; Alan
carried his suitcase there and made ready for bed.

The sight of Constance Sherrill standing and watching after him in
concern as he started back to this house, came to him again and again
and, also, her flush when she had spoken of the friend against whom
Benjamin Corvet had warned her. Who was he? It had been impossible at
that moment for Alan to ask her more; besides, if he had asked and she
had told him, he would have learned only a name which he could not
place yet in any connection with her or with Benjamin Corvet. Whoever
he was, it was plain that Constance Sherrill "thought of him"; lucky
man, Alan said to himself. Yet Corvet had warned her not to think of
him....

Alan turned back his bed. It had been for him a tremendous day.
Barely twelve hours before he had come to that house, Alan Conrad from
Blue Rapids, Kansas; now ... phrases from what Lawrence Sherrill had
told him of his father were running through his mind as he opened the
door of the room to be able to hear any noise in Benjamin Corvet's
house, of which he was sole protector. The emotion roused by his first
sight of the lake went through him again as he opened the window to the
east.

Now--he was in bed--he seemed to be standing, a specter before a man
blaspheming Benjamin Corvet and the souls of men dead. "And the hole
above the eye! ... The bullet got you! ... So it's you that got Ben!
... I'll get you! ... You can't save the _Miwaka_!"

The _Miwaka_! The stir of that name was stronger now even than before;
it had been running through his consciousness almost constantly since
he had heard it. He jumped up and turned on the light and found a
pencil. He did not know how to spell the name and it was not necessary
to write it down; the name had t