gloom of the corridor.

"Were you ever in San Francisco? Really and truly? Honest Injun, Mr.
Calendar?"

For a space the quiet was disturbed by harsh breathing; then, in a
strained voice, "Good day, Mr. Kirkwood"; and again the sound of departing
footfalls.

Kirkwood closed the door and the incident simultaneously, with a smart bang
of finality. Laughing quietly he went back to the window with its dreary
outlook, now the drearier for lengthening evening shadows.

"I wonder what his game is, anyway. An adventurer, of course; the woods are
full of 'em. A queer fish, even of his kind! And with a trick up his sleeve
as queer and fishy as himself, no doubt!"




II


"AND SOME THERE BE WHO HAVE ADVENTURES THRUST UPON THEM"

The assumption seems not unwarrantable, that Mr. Calendar figuratively
washed his hands of Mr. Kirkwood. Unquestionably Mr. Kirkwood considered
himself well rid of Mr. Calendar. When the latter had gone his way,
Kirkwood, mindful of the fact that his boat-train would leave St. Paneras
at half-after eleven, set about his packing and dismissed from his thoughts