It was with great reluctance Martin left Hanley Hall on the morning after his visit with Blount, and equally reluctant were the Staffords to part with him.
On arriving in London he found Blount awaiting him at the station.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Nothing. Everything's down, including your friend Carden, who is lying sick at the Bridge Hotel. He arrived last night. Better go to him."
"Carden here! By George! I must be off!" and hailing a cab Martin hurried away and was soon at his destination.
He found his friend in an easy chair near the window, looking pale and weak.
"Fred, old man! How are you? What's the matter?" exclaimed Martin, shaking both his hands warmly.
"Fred" was a dark handsome fellow of about five and twenty, whose face beamed with pleasure on beholding Martin.
"Oh, Dick! I'm so glad you came! How did you find me? I want to get home as quick as possible, and you must come down with me."
He had begun speaking in such a strange tone and closed so weak and wearily that Martin became alarmed.