"As you are kind to little Agnes. I may have to strip my words for him
and make them very plain, but when that is done I will comfort and help
him. Will you sleep and rest and be sure all is well with Harry?"

"As soon as my girl returns, I will do as you tell me. Tomorrow I--"

"Let us leave tomorrow. It will have its own help and blessing, but
neither is due until tomorrow. We have not used up all today's blessing
yet. Good-bye, little sister! Sleeping or waking, dream of the happiness
coming to you and your children."

It was only after two hours of delays and denials that John was able to
locate his brother. Lugur had given him the exact location of the
house, but the man at the door constantly denied Harry's presence. It
was a small, dull, inconspicuous residence, but John felt acutely its
sinister character, many houses having this strange power of revealing
the inner life that permeates them. The man obtained at Scotland Yard
was well acquainted with the premises, but at first appeared to be
either ignorant or indifferent and only answered John's questions in
monosyllables until John said,

"If you can take me to my brother, I will give you a pound."

Then there was a change. The word "pound" went straight to his nervous
center, and he became intelligent and helpful.

"When the door is opened again," he said, "walk inside. There is a long
passage going backward, and a room at the end of that passage. The kid
you want will be in that room."

"You will go with me?"

"Why not? They all know me."

"Tell them my name is John Hatton."

"I don't need to say a word. I have ways of putting up my hand which
they know, and obey. Ring the bell. I'll give the doorman the word to
pass you in. Walk forward then and you'll find your young man, as I told
you, in the room at the end of the passage. I'll bet on it. I shall be
close behind you, but do your own talking."

John followed the directions given and soon found himself in a room
handsomely but scantily furnished. There were some large easy chairs, a
wide comfortable sofa, and tables covered with green baize. A fire
blazed fitfully in a bright steel grate, but there were no pictures, no
ornaments of any kind, no books or musical instruments. The gas burned
dimly and the fire was dull and smoky, for there was a heavy fog outside
which no light could fully penetrate. The company were nearly all
middle-aged and respectable-looking. Their hands were full of cards,