“Pack what?” demanded Storm coolly. “I haven’t a blessed thing here, old man.”
“Norman! I told you——!” George paused. “And to-morrow is Saturday.”
“I know, but I forgot to tell you; there is nobody out at Greenlea.” Storm chose his words carefully. “MacWhirter came in yesterday and told me that he had been offered another position with bigger money immediately, and as his month was up I was forced to let him go.”
“There’s gratitude for you!” George snorted indignantly. “And all your stuff down there——”
“I never thought of that until you mentioned it over the telephone to-day.” Storm sighed, watching his friend furtively. “I’ll have to go myself, of course. I will not have time to-morrow, and if I appeared in Greenlea on Sunday you know how the crowd would all come trooping in to see me and condole with me all over again. It would drive me mad! There is only to-night, George, and the thought of spending it alone in that house—I thought perhaps you would come down with me and see it through——”
“Of course I will!” George said warmly. “I wouldn’t think of having you down there all alone in that empty place in your state! What train can we get? I haven’t anything with me——”
“We can catch the nine o’clock if we start soon. We will find everything that we may need for the night down there.” Storm’s face was inscrutable. “I’m taking down an old valise with some things in it that I want to leave there; stuff I forgot to put in that trunk we sent down last week. If you have finished your coffee, I’ll ring for a taxi.”
When the car came Homachi stood ready to take his employer’s bag out to it, but Storm waved him aside.
“I’ll carry it myself,” he said.
“It looks deucedly heavy,” George remarked, eying the valise critically as they passed out of the entrance. “What’s in it anyway?”