his worn-out and bedraggled working clothes, and returned him the next
day as a well-dressed citizen on Montgomery Street. It was hard indeed
to recognize the unshaven, unwashed, and unkempt "arrival" one met on
the principal staircase at night in the scrupulously neat stranger one
sat opposite to at breakfast the next morning. In this daily whirl of
mutation all identity was swamped, as Randolph learned to know.
At present, finding himself in a comfortable bedroom, his first act
was to change his wet clothes, which in the warmer temperature and
the decline of his feverishness now began to chill him. He opened the
portmanteau and found a complete suit of clothing, evidently a foreign
make, well preserved, as if for "shore-going." His pride would have
preferred a humbler suit as lessening his obligation, but there was no
other. He discovered the purse, a chamois leather bag such as miners and
travelers carried, which contained a dozen gold pieces and some paper
notes. Taking from it a single coin to defray the expenses of a meal, he
restrapped the bag, and leaving the key in the door lock for the benefit
of his returning host, made his way to the dining room.
For a moment he was embarrassed when the waiter approached him
inquisitively, but it was only to learn the number of his room to
"charge" the meal. He ate it quickly, but not voraciously, for his
appetite had not yet returned, and he was eager to get back to the
room and see the stranger again and return to him the coin which was no
longer necessary.
But the stranger had not yet arrived when he reached the room. Over an
hour had elapsed since their strange meeting. A new fear came upon
him: was it possible he had mistaken the hotel, and his benefactor was
awaiting him elsewhere, perhaps even beginning to suspect not only his
gratitude but his honesty! The thought made him hot again, but he was
helpless. Not knowing the stranger's name, he could not inquire without
exposing his situation to the landlord. But again, there was the key,
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