Mrs. Burchard perceiving the conversation was not free in her presence, quietly left the room, when Mr. Sidney assumed a grave demeanor and said: “Mr. Burchard, I have always believed you eminently an honorable and honest man, and do so still. Do you grant this of me?”
“Yes, but if you did not receive my telegram, what brought you here to-night, for I am aware of the necessity you are under to be elsewhere?”
“I told you I should soon return,” said Mr. Sidney, “for I feared that you might compromise yourself to an unpardonable degree with the scamps by whom you have been surrounded, and the thought of it so weighed upon my mind that when I met the train at New Haven bound eastward I determined to come again to you and inform you of your peril.”
“I am not aware that I am in any peril.”
“If you were aware of it you would be safe, and your lack of knowledge is the reason of my return.”
“Have you any information of what has transpired since last evening?” inquired Mr. Burchard.
“None, whatever.”
“Then unburden yourself with the least possible delay, for I have been so harassed and tormented during this day as almost to be overwhelmed; and as you are aware that I hold your judgment in these matters akin to prophecy, I beg you will proceed, for I have pondered over and over again your meaning when you compared me, both at the beginning and ending of the company, to Bartimeus.”
“First,” said Mr. Sidney, “I wish you to understand that I have never before last night seen or heard of the two or three persons concerning whom I propose to speak, and I feel that I ought first to have your permission to say all that is in my mind, for it comes nearer home to you than you suppose.”
“You have it; go on.”