Roy had not thought of this before. He was about to suggest it to relieve his brother’s mind when he looked up and saw that Rex was asleep.
Then he glanced at the clock on the bureau and saw that it pointed to five minutes to eleven.
“I’ll let him sleep on now,” he decided, “or he’ll be sure to be around when we go, and I’m sure Syd doesn’t want him to know.”
Roy went across the hall to his elder brother’s room.
He found him sitting on the side of the bed, looking very pale.
“I guess you’ll have to help me dress, Roy,” he said with a sorry sort of smile.
“Perhaps you’d better send a telegram,” Roy rejoined. “There won’t be any handwriting to recognize on that.”
“No, no, I must go myself. You will understand some day, very soon, why I feel this way, and then, Roy, you may pity me and forgive me if you can.”
Roy thought of his brother’s theory. Sydney’s talk was very strange, but not stranger than this midnight proceeding. Well, he would wait until he had seen this last through before deciding whether or not he ought to report to his mother.
He helped Sydney on with his clothes, then went to the window to see if the carriage was there. He saw it standing in the glare of a street lamp. It was just half past eleven. He started to his own room to get his coat.