I imagine that she was bored,
for she looked it.
"Mr. Crocker," she called out, "you're just the man I have been wishing
to see."
The others naturally took this for a dismissal, and she was not long in
coming to her point when we were alone.
"What is it you know about this queer but gifted genius who is here so
mysteriously?" she asked.
"Nothing whatever," I confessed. "I knew him before he thought of
becoming a genius."
"Retrogression is always painful," she said; "but tell me something about
him then."
I told her all I knew, being that narrated in these pages. "Now,"
said I, "if you will pardon a curiosity on my part, from what you
said the other evening I inferred that he closely resembles the man
whose name it pleased him to assume. And that man, I learn from the
newspapers, is Mr. Charles Wrexell Allen of the 'Miles Standish Bicycle
Company.'"
Miss Thorn made a comic gesture of despair.
"Why he chose Mr. Allen's name," she said, "is absolutely beyond my
guessing. Unless there is some purpose behind the choice, which I do not
for an instant believe, it was a foolish thing to do, and one very apt to
lead to difficulties. I can understand the rest. He has a reputation
for eccentricity which he feels he must keep up, and this notion of
assuming a name evidently appealed to him as an inspiration."
"But why did he come out here?" I asked. "Can you tell me that?"
Miss Thorn flushed slightly, and ignored the question.
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