his room."

The two men rose, paid their reckoning, and went out; Brown returned
to the small room, where McKay sat at the table with his curly brown
head buried in his arms.

He did not look up immediately when Brown returned--time for the
latter to dose the steaming tumbler at the man's elbow, and slip the
little bottle back into his pocket.

Then, thinking McKay might be asleep, he nudged him, and the young
man lifted his marred and dissipated visage and extended one hand
for his glass.

They both drank.

"Wheresa Major?" inquired McKay. "Gotta see him rightaway. Great
secreksh--"

"Take a nap. You're tired."

"Yess'm all in," muttered the other. "Had a hard
time--prisoner--three--three months hiding--" His head fell on his
arms again.

Brown rose from his chair, bent over him, remained poised above his
shoulder for a few moments. Then he coolly took the key from McKay's
overcoat pocket and very deftly continued the search, in spite of
the drowsy restlessness of the other.