the present to express my sense of them."

"I sincerely hope she was not justified in allowing you to take this
long journey. I beg of you to tell me what has happened. Mrs. Denham has
been anything but explicit."

She had merely announced Ruth's illness, leaving it to Lynde to inform
Mr. Denham of the particulars. That gentleman wrinkled his brows
involuntarily as he listened to Lynde's account of his mountain
excursion alone with Ruth and the result. "I have not seen Miss Denham
since," said Lynde, concluding his statement, in which he had tripped
and stumbled woefully. "I trust that Mrs. Denham's anxiety has
exaggerated her niece's condition."

"Ruth is far from strong," replied Mr. Denham, "and my wife is almost
morbidly quick to take alarm about her. In fact, we both are. Do you
know how the trains run to Geneva? Is there anything earlier than the
evening express?"

Lynde did not know.

"We will ascertain after breakfast," continued Mr. Denham. "Of course
you have not breakfasted yet. You ought to be in appetite by this time.
I am unusually late myself, this morning, and my friend, the doctor, is
still later. We tired ourselves out yesterday in a jaunt to
Fontainebleau. The doctor's an incorrigible sightseer. Ah, there he is!
Mr. Lynde, my friend, Dr. Pendegrast."

Lynde did not start at hearing this unexpected name, though it pierced
his ear like a sharp-pointed arrow. He was paralyzed for an instant; a