Gradually all that it was necessary for him to do unfolded itself, and was mentally arranged in consecutive order. He waited till three o'clock, and then he went from his house to the Salutation Hotel. The night porter, half asleep, was in attendance, and after some demur he conducted Aaron to Mr. Moss' sleeping apartment.
"Who is there?" cried Mr. Moss, aroused by the knocking at his door.
"It is I," replied Aaron. "I must speak to you at once."
Mr. Moss jumped from bed.
"Is it all right, sir?" asked the night porter.
"Of course it is all right," said Mr. Moss, opening the door, and admitting his visitor.
The night porter returned to his duties, and fell into a doze.
"What brings you here at this time of night?" exclaimed Mr. Moss, and then, seeing the distress in Aaron's face, "Good God! It is not about Rachel?"
"No, it is not about Rachel; it is bad enough, but not so bad as that. How shall I tell you--how shall I tell you?"
"Stop a moment," said Mr. Moss. "I ordered half a bottle of port before I went out, and there is a glass or two left. Drink this."