hadn't the pleasure of knowing Mr. Brooks except by reputation, as
the respected son of the lady upon whose house you have just intruded,"
said Herbert frigidly, yet with a creeping consciousness of some
unpleasant revelation.

The stranger stared at him for a moment, again looked carefully round
the room, and then suddenly dropped his head back on the pillow, and
with his white hands over his eyes and mouth tried to restrain a spasm
of silent laughter. After an effort he succeeded, wiped his moist
eyes, and sat up.

"So you didn't know Tappington, eh?" he said, lazily buttoning his
collar.

"No."

"No more do I."

He retied his cravat, yawned, rose, shook himself perfectly neat again,
and going to Herbert's dressing-table quietly took up a brush and began
to lightly brush himself, occasionally turning to the window to glance
out. Presently he turned to Herbert and said:

"Well, Johnny, what's your name?"

"I am Herbert Bly, of Carstone's Bank."

"So, and a member of this same Vigilance Committee, I reckon," he
continued.

"Yes."

"Well, Mr. Bly, I owe you an apology for coming here, and some thanks
for the only sleep I've had in forty-eight hours. I struck this old
shebang at about ten o'clock, and it's now two, so I reckon I've put in
about four hours' square sleep. Now, look here." He beckoned Herbert
towards the window. "Do you see those three men standing under that
gaslight? Well, they're part of a gang of Vigilantes who've hunted me
to the hill, and are waiting to see me come out of the bushes, where
they reckon I'm hiding. Go to them and say that I'm here! Tell them
you've got Gentleman George--George Dornton, the man they've been
hunting for a week--in this room. I promise you I won't stir, nor kick
up a row, when they've come. Do it, and Carstone, if he's a square
man, will raise your salary for it, and promote you." He yawned
slightly, and then slowly looking around him, drew the easy-chair
towards him and dropped comfortably in it, gazing at the astounded and
motionless Herbert with a lazy smile.

"You're wondering what my little game is, Johnny, ain't you? Well,
I'll tell you. What with being hunted from pillar to post, putting my
old pards to no end of trouble, and then slipping up on it whenever I
think I've got a sure thing like this,"--he cast an almost affectionate
glance at the bed,--"I've come to the conclusion that it's played out,
and I might as well hand in my checks