probably the only person in East Westland who understood how it was
with him, and he kept his knowledge to himself. Sidney was astute on
a diagnosis of his fellow-men's mentalities, and he had an almost
womanly compassion even for those weaknesses of which he himself was
incapable.

"Good; I'll keep what you have in your till every night for you, and
welcome, Albion," he had said. "I understand how you feel, living in
the hotel the way you do."

"Nobody knows who is coming and going," said Albion, blinking
violently.

"Of course one doesn't, and nobody would dream of coming to my house.
Everybody knows I am as poor as Job's off ox. You might get a
revolver, but I wouldn't recommend it. You look to me as if you might
sleep too sound to make it altogether safe."

"I do sleep pretty sound," admitted Albion, although he did not quite
see the force of the other man's argument.

"Just so. Any man who sleeps very sound has no right to keep a loaded
revolver by him. He seldom, if ever, wakes up thoroughly if he hears
a noise, and he's mighty apt to blaze away at the first one he sees,
even if it's his best friend. No, it is not safe."

"I don't think it's very safe myself," said Albion, in a relieved
tone. "Miss Hart is always prowling around the house. She doesn't
sleep very well, and she's always smelling smoke or hearing burglars.
She's timid, like most women. I might shoot her if I was only half