"Confound me!" said the young man under his breath, "I clean forgot I was supposed to be dead a year." He strode over to the servant. "Shake hands, Caw, just to make sure I'm of ordinary flesh and blood. I'm sorry to have upset you like this," He turned to the girl. "And to you I make my apology for having alarmed—"
"You didn't!"
"—for imagining I had alarmed you," he corrected himself with a bow and twinkling eyes.
The latter drew her smile despite her still jangling nerves. "I suppose I have to apologise, too," she said, "for taking you for a—a burglar."
"Not at all, because—I may as well confess it at once—no burglar can be more anxious to avoid discovery than I am—or was."
Caw found his speech. "Mr. Alan, sir, I—I haven't words to express my feelings at seeing you alive and well—I really haven't." He turned away with a heave of his shoulders as Dr. Handyside, limping painfully, appeared in the doorway.
It was his turn to be astounded, but his welcome when it came was of the heartiest. "I take it," he went on, "that Marjorie, my daughter, and you have already made each other's acquaintance."
"If Miss Handyside will have it so," said Alan, repressing a smile as Marjorie, with a decided return of colour, stooped and secured the revolver which had escaped her parent's eye. "Naturally Miss Handyside was a little surprised to find me here until I explained who I was." His gaze travelled to the servant who stood apart in meditative regard of the clock. "Caw, how is my uncle?"
Handyside prevented a pause. "There is so much to tell you, Mr. Craig, that I propose an adjournment to my study where we shall find some refreshment which I fancy you can do with. You are not aware, I believe, that your uncle had a private passage built between our two houses, which not only explains our appearance here, but provides a short route to food and warmth."
"Then my uncle—" began Alan, evidently a little puzzled.