Mr. Hyde sat back upon his heels and grinned engagingly. "Not much," he confessed. "Can't find it nowhere. This guy must be a missionary." The new-comer opened the door and entered. He was a medium-sized, plump young man. "Oh, I say!" he protested. "Is it as bad as that?" Bill nodded vaguely, meanwhile carefully measuring the physical proportions of the interloper. The latter went on: "I saw that you knew your business, and--I was hoping you'd manage to find something I had missed." Mr. Hyde breathed deep with relief; his expression altered. "You been through ahead of me?" he inquired. "Oh, several times; daily, in fact." The speaker tossed a bunch of keys upon the berth, saying: "Glance through the steamer-trunk while you're here and declare me in on anything-you find." Mr. Hyde rose to his feet and retreated a step; his look of relief was replaced by one of dark suspicion. As always, in moments of extremity, he began to laugh. "Who are you?" he demanded. "I? Why, I live here. That's my baggage. I've been through it, as I told you, but--" The young man frowned whimsically and lit a cigarette. "It doesn't diagnose. I can't find a solitary symptom of anything worth while. Sit down, won't you?" Mr. Hyde's manner changed for a second time. He was embarrassed, apologetic, crestfallen. "_Your_ cabin? Why, then--it's my mistake!" he declared. "I must 'a' got in the wrong flat. Mac sent me up for a deck of cards, but--Say, that's funny, ain't it?" He began to see the joke upon himself, and the youth echoed his laughter. "It _is_ funny," the latter agreed. "For Heaven's sake, don't spoil it. Sit down and have a smoke; I'm not going to eat you." "See here! You don't mean--? D'you think for a minute--?" Mr. Hyde began with rotund dignity, but the other waved his cigarette impatiently, saying: "Oh, drop that stuff or I'll page your friend 'Mac' and show you up." In assuming his air of outraged innocence Laughing Bill had arched his hollow chest and inhaled deeply. As a result he began to cough, whereupon his new acquaintance eyed him keenly, saying: "That's a bad bark. What ails you?" "Con," said Laughing Bill. "Pardon me. I wouldn't have smoked if I'd known." The speaker dropped his cigarette and placed a heel upon it. "What are you doing here? Alaska's no place for weak lungs." Gingerly seating himself upon the narrow settee Mr. Hyde murmured, wonderingly: "Say! You're a regular guy, ain't you?" He began to laugh again, but now there was less of a metallic quality to his merriment. "Yes sir, dam' if you ain't." He withdrew from his pocket a silver-mounted hair-brush and comb, and placed them carefully upon the washstand. "I don't aim to quit winner on a sport like you." "Thanks, awfully!" smiled the young man. "I'd have fought you for that comb and brush. Girl stuff, you understand? That's she." He pointed to a leather-framed photograph propped against the mirror.