“No use; not at home.”
“One more try!” came plainly to their ears, followed by a cleverly executed roulade with the little brass knocker.
Then there was a short pause, and the rattle of the little copper-plate of the letter-box as if something had been dropped in; the babble of merry voices, and descending steps.
Stratton waited till the last sound had died out, when he opened the inner door, and took out two cards.
“Edie and Guest,” he said, as he came back and reclosed the door.
Just then a line or two in pencil caught his eye, and he read:
“Come on to my rooms as soon as you can. News.
“P.G.”
“Impossible?” muttered Stratton, tossing the cards on to the table. “Now, Brettison, we must act at once.”
“Yes. Yes; of course. But, my dear lad, what a pity you found me, and I took you there.”
“Too late to talk of that, man,” said Stratton, who was full of energy now as he stood frowning. “But have you ever had any scene like this before? I mean, has he returned to his former self?”