active--curiously, at times, with a subdued glitter--in a face large,
round, pink, of which the other most remarkable features were a mustache,
close-trimmed and showing streaks of gray, a chubby nose, and duplicate
chins. Mr. Calendar was furthermore possessed of a polished bald spot,
girdled with a tonsure of silvered hair--circumstances which lent some
factitious distinction to a personality otherwise commonplace.

His manner might be best described as uneasy with assurance; as though he
frequently found it necessary to make up for his unimpressive stature by
assuming an unnatural habit of authority. And there you have him; beyond
these points, Kirkwood was conscious of no impressions; the man was
apparently neutral-tinted of mind as well as of body.

"So you knew I was an American, Mr. Calendar?" suggested Kirkwood.

"'Saw your name on the register; we both hail from the same neck of the
woods, you know."

"I didn't know it, and--"

"Yes; I'm from Frisco, too."

"And I'm sorry."

Mr. Calendar passed five fat fingers nervously over his mustache, glanced
alertly up at Kirkwood, as if momentarily inclined to question his tone,
then again stared glumly into the fire; for Kirkwood had maintained an
attitude purposefully colorless. Not to put too fine a point upon it, be
believed that his caller was lying; the man's appearance, his mannerisms,
his voice and enunciation, while they might have been American, seemed all