Ryder had no time to go upstairs just then; but fearing Ruth would be again disturbed by his continued absence, he scratched off a little note and handed it to one of the boys. "Now, give that to nobody but Mrs. Ryder," he told the boy, remembering Mrs. Judson, who he feared might still be hovering about the suite. Ryder observed that the male guests who had heretofore been so friendly with him now eyed him askance and that Colonel Brack had gathered around him a group that he was haranguing vigorously. By the fiery glances cast in his direction by the old campaigner Ryder was quite sure Brack spoke of him. "I am certainly getting _persona non grata_ in this hotel," murmured Ryder, with grim humor. Then, of a sudden, he saw that one of those listening to Colonel Brack was the man who had disturbed Ruth at the door of their suite. Ryder turned back to speak once more with the clerk: "Who is that fellow?" he asked, calling George's attention to the stranger. "That man? Let's see--he came tonight. Refused to be turned away although at that time, being under Mr. Bangs' instructions, I told him we could not accommodate him. And I have not yet assigned him a room. But his name's White." George whirled the register about and pointed to the last name on the page. Ryder murmured it over to himself: "'John B. White, Rome.' "Rome, what? New York, Georgia, or the original home of the Cæsar family?" Ryder asked carelessly. "I don't know, sir. He just wrote that down. I don't really know what do to with him. I think from something he dropped that he came here expecting to find friends." "And didn't find them?" Ryder's curiosity prompted him to demand. "He hasn't seemed to." "Who are his friends? Don't you know their names?" "I--I---- Well, I declare, sir, he did mention one name. That of a Miss--Miss---- Well, it escapes me," said George, in confusion. "It was just at the outburst of this trouble, and I was all mixed up. I am sure it was a lady he asked me about. Perhaps it is a runaway match and the lady has backed out," and George chuckled at his own joke. "He doesn't act much like a bridegroom," observed Ryder, still watching White. "I might say that about you, Mr. Ryder," ventured the clerk slyly. "By thunder! that's so," admitted Ryder. "Nor do I feel like one. This is a nice mess for a fellow to get into at such a time. I can't say that I am glad I came to Pinewood Inn for my honeymoon, George." But as he strolled away from the hotel desk his mind was still fixed on the man, White. He remembered the bellboy coming through the foyer paging "John B. White" and saying that Mrs. White wanted him upstairs. Now, hang it! if Mrs. White was here, didn't the hotel clerk know her?