with Mrs. Sweeny? If you really wish to break off
your connection with Captain Jim, that's the only way to do it."

His face, which had exhibited the weakest and most pitiable
consciousness at the mention of Mrs. Sweeny, changed to an expression
of absolute stupefaction as I concluded.

"Wot stuff are you tryin' to fool me with?" he said at last roughly.

"I mean," I replied sharply, "that this double game of yours is
disgraceful. Your association with Mrs. Sweeny demands the withdrawal
of any claim you have upon Miss Baxter at once. If you have no respect
for Captain Jim's friendship, you must at least show common decency to
her."

He burst into a half-relieved, half-hysteric laugh. "Are you crazy?"
gasped he. "Why, Captain Jim's just huntin' ME down to make ME marry
Polly. That's just what the row's about. That's just what he's
interferin' for--just to carry out his darned fool ideas o' gettin' a
wife for me; just his vanity to say HE'S made the match. It's ME that
he wants to marry to that Baxter girl--not himself. He's too cursed
selfish for that."

I suppose I was not different from ordinary humanity, for in my
unexpected discomfiture I despised Captain Jim quite as much as I did
the man before me. Reiterating my remark that I had no desire to mix
myself further in their quarrels, I got rid of him with as little
ceremony as possible. But a few minutes later, when the farcical side
of the situation struck me, my irritation was somewhat mollified,
without however increasing my respect for either of the actors. The
whole affair had assumed a triviality that was simply amusing, nothing
more, and I even looked forward to a meeting with Captain Jim and HIS
exposition of the matter--which I knew would follow--with pleasurable
anticipation. But I was mistaken.

One afternoon, when I was watching the slanting volleys of rain driven
by a strong southwester against the windows of the hotel reading-room,
I was struck by the erratic movements of a dripping figure outside that
seemed to be hesitating over the entrance to the hotel. At times
furtively penetrating the porch as far as the vestibule, and again
shyly recoiling from it, its manner was so strongly suggestive of some
timid animal that I found myself suddenly reminded of Captain Jim and
the memorable evening of his exodus from Eureka Gulch. As the figure
chanced to glance up to the window where I stood I saw to my
astonishment that it WAS Captain Jim