"The clock may be wrong." said Dick, but he glanced uneasily at the clock, which now indicated a little past the hour.
His suspense was not a long one.
An old man, thin and shriveled, with a crafty eye, and a thin, squeaking voice, here put his head in at the door.
"Is Mr. Mark Mortimer here?" he asked.
"That's me!" exclaimed Dick, jumping up eagerly.
"There's a boy wants to see you, Mr. Mark Mortimer," said the old man, repeating the name as if he enjoyed it.
"It's my nephew," said Dick.
"Is his name Mortimer, too?" asked the proprietor of the establishment, for such the old man was.
"Never mind," said Dick, impatiently. "Bring the boy in."
Almost directly Jasper was ushered into the room—fearlessly, but looking about him with some curiosity.