ith her and went considerably out of his way to take her
home.

He got back to the office at half past six to find a red-eyed Minnie in
the hall.

X

AT half past five that afternoon David had let himself into the house
with his latch key, hung up his overcoat on the old walnut hat rack, and
went into his office. The strain of the days before had told on him, and
he felt weary and not entirely well. He had fallen asleep in his buggy,
and had wakened to find old Nettie drawing him slowly down the main
street of the town, pursuing an erratic but homeward course, while the
people on the pavements watched and smiled.

He went into his office, closed the door, and then, on the old leather
couch with its sagging springs he stretched himself out to finish his
nap.

Almost immediately, however, the doorbell rang, and a moment later
Minnie opened his door.

"Gentleman to see you, Doctor David."

He got up clumsily and settled his collar. Then he opened the door into
his waiting-room.

"Come in," he said resignedly.

A small, dapper man, in precisely the type of clothes David most
abominated, and wearing light-colored spats, rose from his chair and
looked at him with evident surprise.

"I'm afraid I've made a mistake. A Doctor Livingstone left his seat
number for calls at the box office of the Annex Theater last night--the
Happy Valley company--but he was a younger man. I--"

David stiffened, but he surveyed his visitor impassively from under his
shaggy white eyebrows.

"I haven't been in a theater for a dozen years, sir."

Gregory was convinced that he had made a mistake. Like Louis Bassett,
the very unlikeliness of Jud Clark being connected with the domestic
atmosphere and quiet respectability of the old house made him feel
intrusive and absurd. He was about to apologize and turn away, when he
thought of something.

"There are two names on your sign. The other one, was he by any chance
at the theater last night?"

"I think I shall have to have a reason for these inquiries," David said
slowly.

He was trying to place Gregory, to fit him into the situation; straining
back over ten years of security, racking his memory, without result.

"Just what have you come to find out?" he asked, as Gregory turned and
looked around the room.

"The other Doctor Livingstone is your brother?"

"My nephew."

Gregory shot a sharp glance at him, but all he saw was an elderly man,
with heavy white hair and fierce s