She smiled very sweetly and held out her hand. They were at the hotel door by this time, and Ian Kavanagh, hearing her voice, came forward with those expletives of apology which suited an unceremonious occasion. He was "most frightfully sorry," but how had he managed to miss her? The "little widow" declared as frankly that she did not know. "I am a dreadful bungler," she said, with some reserve; "undoubtedly it was all my fault; please don’t think any more about it, Mr. Kavanagh." "Oh, but I couldn’t help it—I shall dream about it all night." "Then Dr. Orange must prescribe a sleeping draught for you," and with this for his consolation she left him and went to her room. How foolish she had been; how poor her courage to persist in a foolish denial which might cost her so much. *CHAPTER V* *THE GHOST TAKES WINGS* A sense of elation quite foreign to the somewhat methodical order of his daily life accompanied Benny to the chalet, where he found his brother Jack awaiting him with some anxiety. Jack had been the baby of the family from the beginning, and this somewhat precocious infant of twenty-six lifted a shaggy head above the bedclothes upon Benjamin’s entry, and asked him with real solicitude what had kept him. He would have been surprised to the point of wonder had the answer been "A woman." Possibly Jack Benson was the only human being who understood his brother wholly and had no doubt about his future. He himself was a somewhat lazy youth with few affections and no enthusiasms, unless it were for his wire-haired terrier Toby; but he knew that Benjamin Benson was a genius of whom the world would hear one day to its profit. In his own dull way he tried to serve his brother; and this was very proper, for all the legacy that Benjamin ever received from his kindly old father was one thousand pounds sterling and the care of "the baby." That charge he had undertaken faithfully. The brothers were inseparable; and if the younger added little but encouragement to the common stock, his faith was precious to the shy, reserved man who wrought so strenuously for the common good. "Wherever have you been, Benny? It’s after twelve o’clock, isn’t it?" Jack asked as he lifted his head from the pillow. Benjamin replied by setting the candlestick down upon the table and laughing in the most ridiculous way possible. "I’ve been up to Vermala on a luge," he said as though the idea tickled him immensely; "imagine me at the game! Well, I’ve been there sure enough, Jack. Do you remember the pretty little woman in violet—the one with the sad face and the dreamy eyes? You do remember her; well, then, that’s all right, for I brought her down. She was a derelict, and the hee-haw man, who went up with her, had an engagement on a drift. He was getting the snow out of his neck as I went by—so, you see, I brought her down—and, well, it makes me laugh to think about it, that’s all."