"Yes; but why does it seem to interest you so much? you do not know him;" and Rawolle looked puzzled. "Perhaps not," smiling; "but I may have known his great-grandfather; in fact, I may possibly have been an intimate friend of his--who knows?" "True. Your status is so different from that of any other man, that I would not be surprised if you had been his bosom friend." Then turning to Lyman, he continued: "Come; it is time we were attending to business. Let us go at once and see about our transportation and check. Cobb will excuse us for a few minutes, will you not?" to the latter. "Certainly. By all means get our tickets as soon as possible, for I will then feel that we are soon to be on the road." Saying this, he lighted a cigar and watched them depart. A few moments later he went to the window and pulled aside the heavy lace curtains and gazed out upon the busy street below him. This was his first view of the outside world, in daylight, since 1887. A hundred and thirteen years ago he had had rooms at this very same hotel. Was it possible that he was not dreaming? Was he, in fact, alive and well, and again standing in a place that had known him so many years ago--that had been his home at a time so long since that every mortal man who then lived was now dead and crumbling into dust? His thoughts wandered back to the years long past, to his old friends, to the happy days passed in their society; and then to the darling girl whom he had left in Duke's Lane--his betrothed. Alas! they were no more! But he: he was here, and alone in the world!