When he next was aware of anything he was lying in his own bed upstairs in broad daylight, and Mr Halgrove’s housekeeper was depositing a tray with some food upon it at his side. He partook gratefully, and dropped off to sleep again without rousing himself enough to recall the events of the past evening. When, however, late in the afternoon, he awoke, and went over in his mind the events of the last few days, a dismal feeling of anxiety came over him and dispelled the comfort of his present situation. He got out of bed slowly and painfully, for he was very stiff and footsore. He knew not at what moment his guardian might return to the unpleasant topic of last night’s conversation, and he resolved to end his own suspense as speedily as possible. He took a bath and dressed, and then descended resolutely but with sad misgivings to the library. Mr Halgrove was sitting where his ward had left him yesterday evening.
“Ah,” said he, as the boy entered, “early rising’s not your strong point, is it?”
“I only woke half an hour ago.”
“And you are anxious, of course, to know whether you have been inquired for by the police?” said the guardian, paring his nails.
Jeffreys’ face fell.
“Has some one been?” he asked. “Have you heard anything?”
“No one has been as yet except the postman. He brought me a letter from Bolsover, which will probably interest you more than it does me. It’s there on the table.”
Jeffreys took up a letter addressed in Mr Frampton’s hand.
“Am I to read it?”
“As you please.”