The Dark Star

"Ever so much obliged to you, Miss Carew," he said. "We have put you

to a great deal of trouble, I am sure."

Rue looked up surprised, shy, not quite understanding how to reconcile

his polite words and pleasant voice with the voice and manner in which

he had addressed her on the bridge.

"It is no trouble," she said, flushing slightly. "I hope you will be

comfortable."

And she continued to descend the stairs a trifle more hastily, not

quite sure she cared very much to talk to that kind of man.

* * * * *

In the spare bedroom, whither Stull and Brandes had been conducted,

the latter was seated on the big and rather shaky maple bed, buttoning

a fresh shirt and collar, while Stull took his turn at the basin. Rain

beat heavily on the windows.

"Say, Ben," remarked Brandes, "you want to be careful when we go

downstairs that the old guy don't spot us for sporting men. He's a

minister, or something."

Stull lifted his dripping face of a circus clown from the basin.

"What's that?"

"I say we don't want to give the old people a shock. You know what

they'd think of us."

"What do I care what they think?"

"Can't you be polite?"

"I can be better than that; I can be honest," said Stull, drying his

sour visage with a flimsy towel.

After Brandes had tied his polka-dotted tie carefully before the

blurred mirror: "What do you mean by that?" he asked stolidly.

"Ah--I know what I mean, Eddie. So do you. You're a smooth talker, all

right. You can listen and look wise, too, when there's anything in it

for you. Just see the way you got Stein to put up good money for you!

And all you done was to listen to him and keep your mouth shut."

Brandes rose with an air almost jocular and smote Stull upon the

back.

"Stein thinks he's the greatest manager on earth. Let him tell you so

if you want anything out of him," he said, walking to the window.

The volleys of rain splashing on the panes obscured the outlook;

Brandes flattened his nose against the glass and stood as though lost

in thought.

Behind him Stull dried his features, rummaged in the suitcase,

produced a bathrobe and slippers, put them on, and stretched himself

out on the bed.

"Aren't you coming down to buzz the preacher?" demanded Brandes,

turning from the drenched window.