“No. I cannot tell you that,” Miss Winthrop returned, without the flutter of an eyelid over the untruth; for she had no idea of having this country boor coming to her brother’s house to annoy her, “but—I have met her a number of times, and there seems to be some mystery about her that aroused my curiosity,” she continued, in a confidential tone. “She calls herself Salome Howland; is that her real name?” The man laughed a silent, amused, internal laugh that shook his broad shoulders visibly. Whether he was amused over her curiosity, or over something connected with Salome, she could not determine. “I can answer for Salome, but Howland, I won’t be quite so sure about,” he said, after a moment. “Then Howland is an assumed name?” said Miss Winthrop eagerly. “Assumed? Hum! Well, it may belong to her for aught I know; but——” “It isn’t her real surname—that’s what you mean,” supplemented Evelyn as he broke off tantalizingly. “Well, now, I don’t think it would be just square to give an old friend away, do you?” he questioned evasively. “If she calls herself Salome Howland let her go so—it can’t harm anybody, I’m sure.” Evelyn saw that it would be useless to press that matter any further, so she turned her artillery in another direction. “You said she was a good way from home; where did she live?” she inquired. “Well, it wasn’t Boston, and it wasn’t in San Francisco; maybe it was somewhere between the two, and maybe it wasn’t,” was the provoking reply. “Stay!” commanded Miss Winthrop haughtily. “I do not wish to bandy words with you; I simply want to know who the girl is—her true name and history. If you can and will give me the information I desire, I will pay you well for it—you may make your own terms. If you will not, upon any terms, there is no more to be said about the matter.” “Hum! make my own terms, may I? That’s pretty liberal, and you seem to be quite anxious about the girl’s history, it seems to me,” her companion returned, as he searched her face keenly. “Now, I’d give considerable to know where I could find her; suppose you give me her address. I’ll tell you her history and we’ll call it square.” The proud Miss Winthrop shivered at the thought of having this coarse creature demanding entrance to her brother’s residence, and compliance with his condition was not to be thought of for a moment. That he was in some way connected with Salome’s past, and most unpleasantly so, she could not doubt, after observing her sudden pallor and terror upon meeting him and her evident desire to escape from his presence, and she was consumed with curiosity to learn the secret of it all. She would cheerfully have paid a large sum to accomplish her object; but to have her brother’s home invaded by such a person, while she was an inmate there, was more than her proud spirit could brook.