Mr. Sydney F. Pell.
Dear Sir:—Come tomorrow night at midnight. Don’t ring. Knock lightly on the door. Yours truly,
Hannah M. Fox.
“And that is to-night,” murmured Sydney. “How can I go?”
CHAPTER XXIX
A MIDNIGHT VISIT
“Do you want me to write a note for you saying you can’t come?” said Roy.
“No, no. I must go,” replied Sydney.
“But you can’t,” Roy was about to answer. Then he checked himself, and said instead: “Well, perhaps you will be well enough to go to-night. Is it far?” for there was no address given in the letter.
“No, not very. It is right in the city here. But you can’t write for me. The old lady mustn’t know that you’ve seen her letter. She’d notice the difference in the handwriting. But midnight! What a queer time to appoint. It’s just like her, though. Now I will try and get some sleep so as to help prepare myself for to-night.”
The receipt of the letter appeared to have eased Sydney’s mind somewhat, for he slept until well on in the afternoon, and then he woke feeling somewhat better.