CHAPTER IX.
HUNTER'S INN When Mr.Ransom re-entered the hotel, which he did under a swoop of wind which turned his umbrella inside out and drenched him through in an instant, it was to find the house in renewed turmoil, happily explained by the landlady, whom he ran across on the stairs.
"Oh, Mr.Johnston!" she cried as she edged by him with a pile of bed-linen on her arm.

"Please excuse all this fuss.

Another guest is coming--I have just got a telegram.

A famous lawyer from New York.

Our house will be full to-night." "Where will you put him ?" inquired Mr.Ransom with a good-natured air.
"There seem to be no unoccupied rooms on this hall." "More's the pity," she sighed, with a half-inquiring, half deprecatory look at this fortunate first comer.