"You are a sensible fellow. Nine o'clock is late enough for anybody to sit up, although I will admit," the man chuckled mischievously, "that in New York we occasionally sit up later than that."
But Walter ignored the jest.
"Do you think you will hear by nine?" persisted he.
"There is no way of knowing, sonny," was the kind answer. "The best thing for you to do, however, is to go to bed as you usually do. You are tired out with excitement. I can see that."
"No I'm not," contradicted the boy, his eyes very wide open.
"But you are—a deal more fagged than you realize. I am myself. Now I'll tell you what we'll do. I'll go to bed and you go to bed; and if any message comes I'll tell them to waken me and then I'll waken you. I can call you on the wire that goes from the house down to your quarters. How will that do?"
"But suppose I shouldn't hear it?" objected the lad.
"Somebody will. The chauffeurs do not go to sleep as early as you do, I rather fancy. I will give orders for one of them to tell you if a call comes."
"I'd much prefer to sit up, sir. Why couldn't I just sit here on the piazza? It wouldn't disturb anybody and I should be on the spot."
"You might sit here all night and catch your death of cold, and no tidings come until morning, sonny. No, my plan is much the better one. You trot along to bed. I'll fulfill my part of the contract and go also. And if there is anything to tell before morning you shall hear it."