His proceedings when he entered it were but a poor compliment to his
host. Not until he had poked and pried into every corner did he close
the door. Then, not content with locking it, he tilted a chair beneath
the handle, and placing his pistol beneath his pillow, fell fast asleep.

Despite his fatigue he was early astir next morning. Breakfast was laid
for him in the coffee-room, and his brow darkened. He walked into the
hall, and after trying various doors entered a small sitting-room, where
his host and daughter sat at breakfast, and with an easy assurance drew a
chair to the table. The innkeeper helped him without a word, but the
girl's hand shook under his gaze as she passed him some coffee.

"As soft a bed as ever I slept in," he remarked.

"I hope that you slept well," said the girl, civilly.

"Like a child," said Gunn, gravely; "an easy conscience. Eh, Mullet?"

The innkeeper nodded and went on eating. The other, after another remark
or two, followed his example, glancing occasionally with warm approval at
the beauty of the girl who sat at the head of the table.

"A sweet girl," he remarked, as she withdrew at the end of the meal; "and
no mother, I presume?"

"No mother," repeated the other.

Gunn sighed and shook his head.