He knew her far down the hall--he recognized the poise of her head and her walk, which had always been very fine and dignified. As she approached, the radiance of her dress, her beauty, scared him. She looked at him once and then at the clerk as if to say, "Is this the man?" Then Harold arose and said, "Well, Mary, here I am." For an instant she looked at him, and then a light leaped into her eyes. "Why, Harold Excell!----" she stopped abruptly as he caught her outstretched hands, and she remembered the sinister association of the name. "Why, why, I didn't know you. Where do you come from?" Her face was flushed, her eyes eager, searching, restless. "Come in here," she said abruptly, and before he had time to reply, she led him to a little anteroom with a cushioned wall seat, and they took seats side by side. "It is impossible!" she said, still staring at him, her bosom pulsating with her quickened breath. "It is not you--it can't be you," she whispered, "Black Mose sitting here--with me--in Chicago. You're in danger." "I don't feel that way." He smiled for the first time, and his fine teeth shining from his handsome mouth led her to say: "Your big mustaches are gone--that's the reason I didn't know you at once--I don't believe I like you so well----" "They'll grow again," he said; "I'm in disguise." He smiled again as if in a joke. Again the thought of who he really was flamed through her mind. "What a life you lead! How do you happen to be here? I never expected to see you in a city--you don't fit into a city." "I'm here because you are," he replied, and the simplicity of his reply moved her deeply. "I came as soon as I got your letter," he went on. "My letter! I've written only one letter, that was soon after your visit to Marmion." "That's the one I mean. I got it nearly four years after you wrote it. I hope you haven't changed since that letter." "I'm older," she said evasively. "My father died a little over a year ago." "I know, Jack wrote me." "Why didn't you get my letter sooner?" "I was on the trail." "On the trail! You are always on the trail. Oh, the wild life you lead! I saw notices of you once or twice--always in some trouble." She looked at him smilingly but there was sadness in her smile. "It's no fault of mine," he exclaimed. "I can't stand by and see some poor Indian or Chinaman bullied--and besides the papers always exaggerate everything I do. You mustn't condemn me till you hear my side of these scrapes." "I don't condemn you at all but it makes me sad," she slowly replied. "You are wasting your life out there in the wild country--oh, isn't it strange that we should sit here? My mind is so busy with the wonder of it I can't talk straight. I had given up ever seeing you again----" "You're not married?" he asked with startling bluntness. She colored hotly. "No." "Are you engaged?" "No," she replied faintly.