hard ride."

The young engineer stood a moment staring out of the window into the
night. The street was well illumined by the numerous saloon lights,
and he could perceive scattering flakes of snow in the air, blown about
by the gusty wind. He no longer felt the slightest doubt regarding
Albrecht's desertion, and a wave of indignation swept over him. He did
not greatly care himself regarding the small amount of money due for
his services, but it was a dirty, contemptible trick, and he resented
being so easily made the victim of such a scheme. Suddenly he wondered
how this unexpected occurrence might affect the others. With one of
them alone in mind he strode back to the counter, his teeth clinched
savagely.

"What is the number of Miss Norvell's room?"

"Fifty-four--first door to the right of the stairs."

He took the steep flight of steps at a run, caught a glimpse of dimly
reflected light shining through the closed transom, and rapped sharply.
There was a hurried movement within, and her voice spoke.

"What is wanted?"

"I am Mr. Winston, and I must speak with you at once."

His tone was sufficiently low and earnest to make her realize instantly
some grave emergency. Without hesitation the door was held open, and
she stood before him in the faint light of the single lamp, wearing a
fleecy white wrapper, her dark hair partially disarranged, her eyes