“I wish you would come down into the dining-room, Little Ann.” She hesitated. “Mr. Tembaron's brought home such a queer man. He picked him up ill in the street. He wants me to let him stay with him for the night, anyhow. I don't think he's crazy, but I guess he's lost his memory. Queerest thing I ever saw. He doesn't know his name or anything.” “See here,” broke out Hutchinson, dropping his hands and his paper on his knee, “I'm not going to have Ann goin' down stairs to quiet lunatics.” “He's as quiet as a child,” Mrs. Bowse protested. “There's something pitiful about him, he seems so frightened. He's drenched to the skin.” “Call an ambulance and send him to the hospital,” advised Hutchinson. “That's what Mr. Tembarom says he can't do. It frightens him to death to speak of it. He just clings to Mr. Tembarom sort of awful, as if he thinks he'll save his life. But that isn't all,” she added in an amazed tone; “he's given Mr. Tembarom more than two thousand dollars.” “What!” shouted Hutchinson, bounding to his feet quite unconsciously. “What!” exclaimed Little Ann. “Just you come and look at it,” answered Mrs. Bowse, nodding her head. “There's over two thousand dollars in bills spread out on the table in the dining-room this minute. He had it in a belt pocket, and he dragged it out in the street and would make Mr. Tembarom take it. Do come and tell us what to do.” “I'd get him to take off his wet clothes and get into bed, and drink some hot spirits and water first,” said Little Ann. “Wouldn't you, Mrs. Bowse?” Hutchinson got up, newspaper in hand. “I say, I'd like to go down and have a look at that chap myself,” he announced. “If he's so frightened, perhaps--” Little Ann hesitated. “That's it,” put in Mrs. Bowse. “He's so nervous it'd make him worse to see another man. You'd better wait, Mr. Hutchinson.” Hutchinson sat down rather grumpily, and Mrs. Bowse and Little Ann went down the stairs together. “I feel real nervous myself,” said Mrs. Bowse, “it's so queer. But he's not crazy. He's quiet enough.” As they neared the bottom of the staircase Little Ann could see over the balustrade into the dining-room. The strange man was sitting by the table, his disordered, black-haired head on his arm. He looked like an exhausted thing. Tembarom was sitting by him, and was talking in an encouraging voice. He had laid a hand on one of the stranger's. On the table beside them was spread a number of bills which had evidently just been counted. “Here's the ladies,” said Tembarom. The stranger lifted his head and, having looked, rose and stood upright, waiting. It was the involuntary, mechanical action of a man who had been trained among gentlemen. “It's Mrs. Bowse again, and she's brought Miss Hutchinson down with her. Miss Hutchinson always knows what to do,” explained Tembarom in his friendly voice. The man bowed, and his bewildered eyes fixed themselves on Little Ann.