"Your words, Mr. Fenton," said Sinclair, "embolden me to ask you a favor."
"Name it," said Fred, in a tone of kindly encouragement.
"I spend all my time alone, except when Claudine is ministering to my wants. Your time is hardly likely to be very much occupied in this dull place. Can't you spare me an hour or two at your convenience during the day?"
"You have promised to go hunting with me tomorrow," interrupted Bowman.
"That is true. I will go with you in the forenoon, and in the afternoon I will call on Mr. Sinclair."
Bowman shrugged his shoulders.
"It is a rash promise. You will be sorry for having made it."
"I will risk that," answered Fred.
Sinclair gave him a grateful glance. The promise cheered him, and kindled hopes in his breast. Now he would have a chance of learning, when alone with Fred, whether he came as a messenger from Mr. Wainwright. If so, and through his means he could make restitution and regain his place and lost character, he would still have something to live for. He execrated his folly in weakly submitting to the guidance of Paul Bowman, and for having taken that first step in crime, which is so difficult to retrace.
"Don't forget your promise," he said earnestly as Fred rose to go.