I was still sitting on the floor when he came, reading the note over and over, with the lamp beside me.
With Captain and Colonel at his heels he burst in upon me.
"Well, Mark, you scoundrel," he cried, laughing, as he caught me by the arm and lifted me up. "Where have you been?"
"Travelling," I answered grimly. "And you—what are you doing here?"
"I came to find you," he said. "Do you suppose you can disappear off the face of the earth for two weeks and that I will not be worried? Why, I came from New York to hunt you up—just got here this afternoon and was over at Bolum's when we saw the light. Now give an account of yourself."
"It isn't necessary," said I, smiling complacently. I put the lamp on the table and picked up my hat. "I'll be back in a while," I said. "I'm going up to see Mary."
"To see Mary?" Tim cried.
"Yes, to see Mary," I answered.
Then, with a little flourish of triumph, I handed him her note.
Tim read it. His face became very grave, and he looked from it to me, and then turned and, with an elbow resting on the mantel, stood gazing down into the empty fireplace.