"Good," said Savette, with a tone of sudden decision. "A great idea, Mr. Cranston. I accept your kind offer."
Cranston called Richards. "When are you packing up the den?" he asked.
"You said day after tomorrow, sir," said Richards. "Everything else goes out tomorrow. I am to return later to—"
"That's right," observed Cranston. "I had forgotten. Tomorrow, Richards, move this box upstairs. Doctor Savette is coming. He and I will pack some of the curios, and a truck will come to take it. You pack whatever is left, and send it to that special storage house."
"Very good, sir."
"Let's see, now" — Cranston became thoughtful — "you and all the servants will be away tomorrow night—"
"All except Stanley, sir. He will be here to drive you to the station."
"I can do that, Mr. Cranston," observed Savette.
"Surely, surely," said Cranston. "Tell Stanley he can go, also, Richards. That will be a great help, doctor. Send a truck. We shall pack the box and let the men take it. Then we can put my portmanteau in your car. At that time" — he laughed as he spoke — "I shall decide what train I intend to take, what railroad it will be on, and where I am going."
This arranged, Savette noticed the lateness of the hour, and decided that he must be leaving. Cranston accompanied his visitor to the door, and warmly bade him good night.