looking at the arrangement of her things, and then knocked at the door
of the stateroom exactly opposite. A thick-browed, heavy-looking man,
sombrely and professionally dressed, opened the door.

"Are you wanting me, Doctor Gant?" she asked.

The doctor shook his head.

"The patient is asleep," he announced in a whisper.

Katharine stepped inside and stood looking down upon the pale, almost
ghastly face of the man stretched at full length upon the bed.

"Why, I remember him perfectly," she exclaimed. "He was in Number
Three Ward for some time. Surely he was a clerk at one of the
drygoods stores down-town?"

The doctor nodded.

"Very likely."

"I remember the case," Katharine continued,--"appendicitis, followed
by pneumonia, and complicated by angina pectoris."

"You have it precisely."

Katharine's eyes were full of perplexity.

"But the man is in very poor circumstances," she remarked. "How on
earth can he afford a trip like this? He was on the free list at the