seem to have already recognized you at the hotel from your inquiry about
Ricketts, and the photograph Jimmy had already shown them two weeks
ago." Bob remembered the clerk's familiar manner and the omission to ask
him to register. "But it need go no further, if you like," she added,
with a slight return of her previous scorn.

"I've no reason for keeping it secret," said Bob stoutly.

No other words were exchanged until the sleigh drew up before a plain
wooden house in the suburbs of the town. Bob could see at a glance that
it represented the income of some careful artisan or small shopkeeper,
and that it promised little for an invalid's luxurious comfort. They
were ushered into a chilly sitting-room and Miss Boutelle ran upstairs
with Jimmy to prepare the invalid for Bob's appearance. He noticed that
a word dropped by the woman who opened the door made the young girl's
face grave again, and paled the color that the storm had buffeted to
her cheek. He noticed also that these plain surroundings seemed only
to enhance her own superiority, and that the woman treated her with a
deference in odd contrast to the ill-concealed disfavor with which she
regarded him. Strangely enough, this latter fact was a relief to his
conscience. It would have been terrible to have received their kindness
under false pretenses; to take their just blame of the man he personated
seemed to mitigate the deceit.

The young girl rejoined him presently with troubled eyes. Cissy was
worse, and only intermittently conscious, but had asked to see him. It
was a short flight of stairs to the bedroom, but before he reached it
Bob's heart beat faster than it had in any mountain climb. In one corner
of the plainly furnished room stood a small truckle bed, and in it lay
the invalid. It needed but a single glance at her flushed face in its