"No one would think that you lads were recovering from a bout of malaria," exclaimed Mr. Frazer, as Hugh and Gerald, hot and breathless with running, burst into the loggia of the Hôtel des Etrangers. "What are you so excited about?"
"Whom do you think we met, Dad? Mr. Reeves! He's off to the front."
"What front?"
"Why, Tripoli, of course. He sent us to ask if we—that is you, Gerald, and I—could go with him a part of the way."
"Bless my soul—go part of the way to Tripoli! Of course it's impossible. I should like to have seen him, though. Ask him up to dine with us this evening."
"He's leaving at five," glancing at the clock, the hands of which pointed to a quarter to three. "Besides, he's only going as far as Capri to-day."
"Oh, that's different!" replied Mr. Frazer. "That's only that little island out in the bay. Yes, you can go."
"But won't you go too, Pater?"
"I'm afraid I cannot. Signor Calasso has an appointment with me at six. By the by, what vessel is Reeves going in? Perfectly safe, I hope?"
"He didn't say," replied Hugh. "I remember that he mentioned her name. It was the——"