The cabman looked at him peculiarly when he got in, but that was nothing to the grin which overspread his face when the lad alighted and went up to the front door; while upon his summons being answered, the maid saluted him with the expressive words—“Oh, lor!”
“Is my father down yet?” asked Sam.
“No, sir, and it’s lucky for you as he ain’t. My! he would kick up a fuss, if he see you such a sight after being out all night.”
“Bah!” ejaculated Sam, and he ran up-stairs to his room.
“Bah! indeed,” cried the indignant girl; “serve you right if I was to tell master what time you come home. But I won’t.”
And there was no need. For Sam had hardly shut himself in before there was a hand upon the lock of the door, and his father entered in his dressing-gown, looking haggard and pale, consequent upon a sleepless, anxious night.
He closed and locked the door, before turning excitedly to his son.
“Well?” he whispered in a husky voice.
“Got back,” said Sam laconically.
“Yes; and you have not succeeded?” cried James Brandon.