"No; I'd be up a tree if he asked me to explain it. But don't you be afraid of Mills; he's a fine chap. Come and see me to-morrow night, will you?"
Sydney agreed, and, arising, swung himself across the study to where his coat and cap lay.
"By the way," he asked, "where's Paul to-night?"
"He's calling on Cowan," answered Neil.
Sydney looked as though he wanted to say something and didn't dare. Finally he found courage.
"I should think he'd stay in his room now that you're laid up," he said.
"Oh, he does," answered Neil. "Paul's all right, only he's a bit--careless. I guess I've humored him too much. Good-night. Don't forget to-morrow night."
Mills called the following forenoon. Ever since Neil's accident he had made it his duty to inquire daily after him, and the two were getting very well acquainted. Neil likened Mills to a crab--rather crusty on the outside, he told himself, but all right when you got under the shell. Neil was getting under the shell.
To-day, after Neil had reported on his state of health and spirits, he brought out Sydney's diagram. Mills examined it carefully, silently, for some time. Then he nodded his head.
"Not bad; rather clever. Who did it; you?"