leave the yacht till you got back?"

Peter stared. "Why, just that, of course. Deuced unfortunate
coincidence, isn't it? Everybody in town is going to think that you are
this fellow Stanhope."

"Well?"

"_Well_? Oh, I forgot--you haven't heard. Well, from the stories that
are floating round town to-day, Stanhope is a cad of the original brand.
He was born here--lived here until he was twenty-one or two. Women were
his trouble. The climax came about twelve years ago. The girl was named
Orrick--Mamie Orrick, I believe. Nobody knows exactly what became of
her, but they practically ran Stanhope out of the town then. Well--there
it is."

He paused long enough to light one of his Herculean cigars, employing
his hat as a wind-shield, and rapidly continued: "It's very curious and
strange, and all that, but there it is. A month or so ago the _Gazette_
announced that Stanhope was coming back to Hunston. Last night you were
seen on the square, and now the news has spread like wildfire that the
author has arrived. Hare heard a lot of gossip on the street to-day.
He's lived here only a few years and doesn't know anything personally;
but he says the old feeling against Stanhope seems to have revived as
though it had all happened yesterday. Orrick, the girl's father, a
half-witted old dotard, was heard to say that he would shoot on sight.
There are three or four others besides Orrick who've got personal
grudges too. If any of these meet you, there is almost sure to be
trouble. How is that for a little complication?"