call you Robert Dunn--Charley Wright. Do you know why I can't have
you call yourself Charley Wight?"

Dunn shook his head.

"Because I don't like it," said Deede Dawson. "Why, that's a name
that would drive me mad," he muttered, half to himself.

Dunn did not speak, but he thought this was a strange thing for the
other to say and showed that even he, cold and remorseless and
without any natural feeling, as he had seemed to be, yet had about
him still some touch of humanity.

And as he mused on this, which seemed to him so strange, though
really it was not strange at all, his attentive ears caught the
sound of a soft step without, beginning to descend the stairs.

Had that name, then, been more than she also could bear?

If so, she must know.

"I don't see why, I don't see what's wrong with it," he said aloud.
"But Robert Dunn will suit me just as well."

"All a matter of taste," said Deede Dawson, his manner more composed
and natural again.

"It's a funny thing now--suppose my name was Charley Wright, then
there would be two Charley Wrights in this attic, eh? A coincidence,
that would be?"