"Your evening suit, sir?"
"No, oh no, not that," Charles smiled. "I'm not going into society on this trip. I'll get out what I need."
Taking the articles from a drawer of the bureau, Charles tossed them on the bed near the suitcase which the servant had brushed and opened. "Put them in, please, Mike. It will save time."
The suitcase was packed and locked. Charles suddenly observed that Mike was eying the addressed envelope curiously.
"Oh, that note?" the young man said, averting his eyes oddly. "That is for my brother. Will you hand it to him—not to-night, I mean—at the breakfast-table in the morning? Don't fail, Mike. It is rather important."
The servant took it up. He held it tentatively. He hesitated. "He does not know that you are going, sir?" he asked.
Charles stared straight at the floor. "This will tell him all that he need know, Mike."
Putting the note into his pocket, Michael stolidly faced his companion. "Of course it does not concern me," he faltered, "but somehow you talk and act like—?" He went no further.
"Oh, you are afraid I'm off on another spree, eh?" Charles laughed. "But I'm not, Mike. It is business, this time, and serious business at that."
The servant was not satisfied, as was evident from his unsettled glances here and there, now on the young man's face, again on the suitcase or the floor.