"Oh!" cried Dina, "We know all about that. Dear mother would never—right from the first—have a thing touched. The room was kept clean and had a fire in it sometimes, but everything is the same as it used to be—even the dear beautiful Brother Bob picture on the wall."
A queer sound came from the stranger's lips. Then in a choked voice he said, "Some papers left in the room are wanted, and I thought perhaps nurse would get them for me—to—give to Robert Ellis."
But just here Dina, who had been gazing intently into the stranger's face, gave a joyful cry.
"Oh, Gerry! Don't you see? It's Brother Bob himself—I know it is! Oh, Brother Bob, you can't think how I've wanted you! Come home with us!" And Dina caught hold of his hand.
But the young fellow shook his head. "No," he said, "I must not."
"Why?" asked Dina. "Is it because you went to the bad?" An odd sort of smile, half comical, half sad, curled the handsome lips as he nodded assent.
"Well," put in Gerald, "wherever you went, you're not there now, for you're here with us—your step-brother and sister—so come along. You shall see nurse and your old room, and maybe dad, but I won't answer for him, because no one can, you know."
The interview between Bob Ellis and nurse, and the young man's visit to his own room, were managed easily enough. The other servants were at tea downstairs, out of sight and hearing, and Mr. Ellis was, as usual, in his study, which was on the first floor and facing the opposite side of the house.
When Bob and nurse came down, they found the twins waiting for them at the foot of the stairs.
"Have you found your papers, Brother Bob?" inquired Gerald.