Nat nodded.
“That is usually the way,” he said. “Such a thing is greatly to be feared; but in this case it will hardly go so far. I have heard that there is a plan afoot to permit those who so desire to leave Boston. If this is carried out, it will help matters wonderfully.”
But, though Ezra drew some small measure of hope from this suggestion, he was still vaguely troubled. Somehow, the thought of his grandfather kept recurring to him. He seemed filled with an indefinite fear concerning him; it was as though the future held something unpleasant in store. As this state of mind continued, he finally arose and bid his friends good-night with a feeling of great depression. He had entered his room and lighted a candle when he heard a low knock upon the door. Opening it he saw his brother.
George entered and closed the door behind him.
“I have been wanting to say something to you all evening,” said he, “but could not get the opportunity.”
He drummed with his fingers upon the back of a chair, and the other saw a troubled look in his eyes.
“What is it?” asked Ezra.
“It’s about this man Pennington,” replied George. “And also about the one you call Abdallah.”
Ezra regarded him steadily.
“What do you know of them?” he asked.