There was one passenger whom the conductor was not able to classify, a tall man who wore a beard sharply pointed in a new fashion, young, but how young it was hard to say. He was handsomely dressed, and his bags were of a different pattern from the square leather cases of the agents and the unwieldy and bulging satchels carried by other travelers. He rode in the smoking-car and smoked steadily. Once or twice he rose and walked up and down the aisle, complaining of the roughness of his progress. When a passenger took the seat in front of him, he leaned forward and made comment as though communion with a fellow being were suddenly imperative. "This is a beastly road!" The newcomer turned toward him, blinking, as though his mind had to exert itself to understand. He regarded the pointed beard and the handsome tie near him with some astonishment. "What did you say?" "I said this was a beastly road. I can apply still other adjectives." "I guess it's good enough for those that have to travel on it," answered the mild voice. "I myself don't travel much. The testimony of our church is rather against traveling." The handsome young man sat back with a muttered "Humph!" He was not in the least interested in churches or testimonies or those who thought of them seriously; his mind was occupied with certain literary problems which he considered important. At present he was engaged in a quest which he expected confidently would make him famous. For fifteen minutes he stared out the window, until the darkening pane gave back only his own countenance. Then he turned in his seat and spoke to the man behind him. This man was very friendly; he explained at once that he was going to Waltonville to see his only son graduate and that mother and the girls were in the other car. The sending of his son to college had been a heavy expense, but the boy had justified all his hopes and would be able to pay back into the family treasury the amount which he had received. "My name is Illington," said he in conclusion. Instead of giving his name in return, the young man asked a question. "Are you acquainted in Waltonville?" "A little." Mr. Illington shifted his position so that he might talk more comfortably. He thought of offering to sit with the young man. "Did you ever hear of any one named Basil Everman?" The answer came with a kindly, frowning effort to remember. "No and yes. The name sounds familiar." "Do you know whether such a person lives in Waltonville now?" "No, sir, I don't." "Did you _really_ ever know of such a person?" The kindly man shook his head. "I can't say that I _really_ did. But the name sounds--"