“Yes, sir, gets married, and sets up house-keeping. So I lose him; and I'm mighty sorry to, I can tell you. He's a gentleman, from the word go. But he's caught a stunning pretty girl for a wife, now, and don't you forget it. He had her here one night, along with some friends, to dinner; and he took me up, and introduced me to her. She's what I call a daisy, straight out. Well, sir, tomorrow morning they're going to be married; and he said he'd have invited me to the wedding, only it's strictly private. No admittance except on business, you understand. No guests; nothing. Well, that's all right, I suppose, if people like it that way. No law against it, any how. But you see, I wanted to send her some sort of a little present, being so friendly with him, you understand; and so I thought awhile, and finally I got this.” (The proprietor went to his safe, and, coming back in a minute, exhibited a necklace of amber beads.) “I got this. Tidy, ain't it? But do you know, I'll be hanged if I hadn't forgotten to ask him for her address, until just this instant. There's time yet, however; and I'll send it up by one of the boys right away. Let's see. Ah, yes; here it is. He wrote it out on this envelope.” Elias took the envelope which his communicative landlord offered him, and glanced indifferently at it. In large, clear letters, was written: “Miss Christine Redwood, “No.-- West 48th Street, “City.” Elias did not start, nor exclaim, nor indeed make any sign by which an observer could have guessed that what he had just read had been of any special import to him. He turned perhaps a little pale. Perhaps his lips twitched a little. Perhaps his attitude assumed a certain rigidity. But it was with an air of perfect composure that he said to the proprietor, “Oh, by the way, I forgot something. I must go back to my room The matter I wanted to speak to you about--I'll be down again about it, later.” With an air of perfect composure; for, at this moment, like a man who has been shot, Elias was conscious of very little, save a sudden daze and bewilderment. He knew in a dull way that something serious had happened to him. There had been, all at once, a shock, a thrill that pierced and transfixed him; and then had come a strange stunned feeling; and now--now, he must get away, by himself, back in his own room, at once. He entered the elevator, and was carried upstairs. Automatically, he heard the elevator-man say: “Fine day, sir.” Automatically, he responded, “Yes.” “But cold. Coldest of the season, I guess. Below zero, sir.” “Indeed.” “Well, here you are, sir. Sixth.” “Thanks.”