you come up to my room—it's right at the head of the stairs. I have a fire, you know."
Back into the young man s lean hawk-like face crept the assurance that belonged with the gay at tire he wore. He dropped the revolver into his pocket, and smiled a sneering smile.
"Ypu gave me a turn," he said. "Of course you live here. Are any of the other guests about? And who won the tennis match to-day ?"
"You are facetious." Mr. Magee smiled too. "So much the better. A lively companion is the very sort I should have ordered to-night. Come up-stairs."
The young man looked suspiciously about, his thin nose seemingly scenting plots. He nodded, and picked up the candle. "All right," he said. "But I'll have to ask you to go first. You know the way." His right hand sought the pocket into which the revolver had fallen.
"You honor my poor and drafty house," said (Mr. Magee. "This way."
He mounted the stairs. After him followed the youth of flashy habiliments, looking fearfully about him as he went. He seemed surprised that
