ears was sprinkled with gray.

"Mr. Hall, of--ah--of Wellmouth," repeated the stranger, seemingly
embarrassed by the Pulcifer stare. "I--I wish to find his house. Can you
tell me how to find it?"

Raish took the cigar, which even the bump against the lamp door had
failed to dislodge, from the corner of his mouth, snapped the ash from
its end, and then asked a question of his own.

"Hall?" he repeated. "Hall? Why, he don't live in Wellmouth. East
Wellmouth's where he lives."

"Dear me! Are you sure?"

"Sure? Course I'm sure. Know him well."

"Oh, dear me! Why, the man at the station told me--"

"What station? The Wellmouth depot, do you mean?"

"No, the--ah--the South Wellmouth station. You see, I got off the train
at South Wellmouth by mistake. It was the first Wellmouth called, you
know, and I--I suppose I caught the name and--ah--rushed out of the car.
I thought--it seemed to be a--a sort of lonely spot, you know--"

"Haw, haw! South Wellmouth depot? It's worse'n lonesome, it's
God-forsaken."

"Yes--yes, it looked so. I should scarcely conceive of the Almighty's