The other man was becoming interested.

"U. C.?" he asked.

"Yes, Class of '86."

"I meant faculty," the doctor explained. "You remind me of the
type."

"Sorry to hear you say so," Messner smiled back. "I'd prefer being
taken for a prospector or a dog-musher."

"I don't think he looks any more like a professor than you do a
doctor," the woman broke in.

"Thank you," said Messner. Then, turning to her companion, "By the
way, Doctor, what is your name, if I may ask?"

"Haythorne, if you'll take my word for it. I gave up cards with
civilization."

"And Mrs. Haythorne," Messner smiled and bowed.

She flashed a look at him that was more anger than appeal.

Haythorne was about to ask the other's name. His mouth had opened
to form the question when Messner cut him off.

"Come to think of it, Doctor, you may possibly be able to satisfy
my curiosity. There was a sort of scandal in faculty circles some