"You were out again last night, Richard," said his father, when they met in the sitting room at a later hour.
"No, sir, not that I am aware of," replied Richard, with as much self-possession as he could call to his aid, though his heart was leaping with fear and anxiety.
"If you had been out, shouldn't you have been aware of it?" asked his father, fixing a penetrating gaze upon him.
"I don't know. I only judge by what happened the other night," answered Richard, who had determined to "run" the sleep-walking expedient again.
"You mean by that you got up in your sleep if you got up at all?"
"Yes, sir."
"You were entirely unconscious when you got up the other night and went off in the Greyhound—were you?"
"Of course I was."
A faint smile played upon the lips of Mr. Grant, while the faces of uncle Obed and Mr. Presby wore a decidedly comical expression. Though Richard could not see "where the laugh came in," he was conscious that he had placed himself in a ludicrous attitude.
"And you were asleep last night when you went out—were you?" continued Mr. Grant.