“It's disapinting to a man,” he said, in a coarse broken voice, “arter having looked for'ard so distant, and come so fur; but you're not to blame for that, — neither on us is to blame for that.

I'll speak in half a minute. Give me half a minute, please.”

He sat down on a chair that stood before the fire, and covered his forehead with his large brown veinous hands. I looked at him attentively then, and recoiled a little from him; but I did not know him.

“There's no one nigh,” said he, looking over his shoulder; “is there?”

“Why do you, a stranger coming into my rooms at this time of the night, ask that question?” said I.