VER since I became secretary I had been as one dead to my friends. Except the General, I had seen none of them. One or two, including Dick Shafthead, had called upon me, only to be told that I might not return until long after midnight (for I was occasionally in the habit of dining with one of my employers after my labors). When I thought of Dick, my conscience smote me. I intended always to write to him, and also to Lumme, to explain my disappearance, but never took pen in hand. I heard nothing from France, nothing about the packing-case; nor did I trouble my head about this silence. The present moment was enough for me. To Halfred I had only mentioned that I was busily employed in a distant part of London, and I fear my servant's vivid imagination troubled him considerably, for he was earnestly solicitous about my welfare.
“It ain't nothing I can lend a 'and in, sir?” he inquired one day.
“I am afraid not,” I replied.
He hesitated, uncertain how best to express his doubts politely and indicate a general warning.
“You'll excuse me, sir, for saying so,” he remarked at last, “but Mr. Titch 'e says that furriners sometimes gets themselves into trouble without knowing as 'ow they are doing anything wrong.”
“Tell Mr. Titch, with my compliments, to go to the devil and mind his own business,” I replied, with, I think, pardonable wrath.