before leaving New York he had received a letter from Houston informing
him of Lasham's death, reminding him of his previous bounty, and begging
him--if he went West--to break the news to the Lasham family. There was
also some allusion to a joke about his (Bob's) photograph, which he had
dismissed as unimportant, and even now could not remember clearly. For a
few moments his conscience pricked him that he should have forgotten it
all, but now he could make amends by this providential delay. It was not
a task to his liking; in any other circumstances he would have written,
but he would not shirk it now.

Shepherdstown was on the main line of the Kansas Pacific Road, and as he
alighted at its station, the big through trains from San Francisco
swept out of the stormy distance and stopped also. He remembered, as he
mingled with the passengers, hearing a childish voice ask if this was
the Californian train. He remembered hearing the amused and patient
reply of the station-master: "Yes, sonny--here she is again, and here's
her passengers," as he got into the omnibus and drove to the hotel. Here
he resolved to perform his disagreeable duty as quickly as possible,
and on his way to his room stopped for a moment at the office to ask for
Ricketts' address. The clerk, after a quick glance of curiosity at his
new guest, gave it to him readily, with a somewhat familiar smile. It
struck Falloner also as being odd that he had not been asked to write
his name on the hotel register, but this was a saving of time he was not
disposed to question, as he had already determined to make his visit to
Ricketts at once, before dinner. It was still early evening.

He was washing his hands in his bedroom when there came a light tap at
his sitting-room door. Falloner quickly resumed his coat and entered the
sitting-room as the porter ushered in a young lady holding a small boy
by the hand. But, to Falloner's utter consternation, no sooner had the