He got up from his desk and stood irresolute. Then he rang his bell.
“This must be taken by special messenger,”—he said—“There’s no late post on Christmas Day!”
He smiled, and rubbed his hands. At that instant the door opened, and his servant Towler appeared, with a pale, rather scared face.
“Good-morning, Towler!”
“Good-morning, sir! Glad to see you well, sir!”
“Glad to see me well! Have I been ill, then?”
“No, sir I—at least I hope not, sir! But I went to call you at seven o’clock, as you told me, sir, and you weren’t in your room, and your bed hadn’t been slept in—and—I—er—didn’t know what to think, sir! I didn’t dare to come in here!”
“I was busy,”—said Josiah, calmly—“Very busy!—tremendously busy all night! What time is it now?”
“Nine o’clock, sir!”
“And it’s Christmas Day, isn’t it?”