[CHAPTER XXIV.]
IN WHICH PHIL MEETS AN OLD FRIEND, AND MR. LEONIDAS LYNCHPINNE COMES TO GRIEF.
I could not imagine what had so suddenly driven Mr. Gracewood from the room. He left as though he had been shot from a gun, and did not utter a word in explanation of his conduct. On the impulse of the moment I followed him. In the entry I looked for Mr. Bogart, in order to report progress to him; but I did not see him. The ladder was still standing at the skylight, but the detective was not in sight upon the roof, and though I called his name as loud as I dared to speak he did not respond.
I descended the stairs to the next floor, where I had understood the room of the invalid was located. The door of his apartment was open, and I discovered Mr. Gracewood in the act of ransacking his bed. He was very nervous and excited, and I saw that the hand he was able to use trembled violently.
The Lost Money. Page 281.
"What is the matter, Mr. Gracewood?" I asked, as he continued to tumble over the mattress and the pillows.
"All is lost!" exclaimed he, in the tones of despair.
"What is lost?"