"Van told me to bring 'em here with his--something I don't remember,"
imparted the youth. "That's all," and he grinned and departed.

Bostwick glowered, less pleased than before.

"That fellow, I presume. He evidently knows where you are stopping."

Beth was beginning to feel annoyed and somewhat defiant. She had never
dreamed this man could appear so repellant as now, with his stubble of
beard and this convict garb upon him. She met his glance coldly.

"He found me the place. I am considerably in his obligation."

Bostwick's face grew blacker.

"Obligation? Why don't you admit at once you admire the fellow?--or
something more. By God! I've endured about as much----"

"Mr. Bostwick!" she interrupted. She added more quietly: "You've been
very much aggravated. I'm sorry. Now please go somewhere and change
your clothing."

"Aggravated?" he echoed. "You ought to know what he is, by instinct.
You must have seen him in a common street brawl! You must have seen
that woman--that red-light night-hawk throwing herself in his arms.
And to think that you--with Glenmore in town---- Why isn't your
brother here with you?"

Beth was smarting. The sense of mortification she had felt at the
sight of that woman in the street with Van, coupled with the sheer