k I could have seen it so clearly if it had only been
my own thought," he argued aloud. "Besides, he spoke; he said quite
clearly, 'Don't make a row, old man; I'm not a ghost. I want you to
get hold of your father for me without a soul knowing that you have
seen me. Tell him I am waiting by the first drive gate, and want to
speak to him at once. Mind no one else hears what you say. Seeing
you is better luck than I expected.'"

The words were branded on his memory by the shock he had received,
and now it was Mr. Orban's turn to become white.

"If it is so really," he said in an odd, unsteady voice, "he brings
bad news. Something so bad has happened that he could not break it
to me in a letter."

It flashed into Eustace's mind that Bob had looked awfully grave
and queer--if Bob it really were, and no delusion! Suppose his
father should go to the gate and find no one awaiting him--what
then?

"You--you will go and see if he is there?" faltered the boy
nervously.

"I am going at once," said Mr. Orban. "When you are dressed
yourself, go down into the drawing-room as usual, as if nothing had
happened." He opened the door into Mrs. Orban's room and said
lightly, "There's a man just called to see me, dear. If I happen to
be detained, make my apologies to the old people, and ask them not
to wait dinner for me."

Mrs. Orban made a cheery, unsuspecting response, and he and Eustace
left the room.

The twins and the Dixon pair always assembled in the drawing-room
with every one before dinner was served, and there they awaited the
summons to dessert, as a rule with books, in dreary silence.

When Eustace came down he found every one waiting for dinner. Mr.
Orban was not yet in, and Mr. Chase would not hear of beginning the
meal without him.

"His friend can't in conscience keep him late at such an hour," he
said. "Of course we will wait."

No one was very talkative. It seemed to Eustace as if something of
the coming shadow were creeping over the community before the bad
news could even be dreamed of by any one except himself. There was
just the sort of deadly calm and stillness over everything that
comes before a thunderstorm.

Nesta had curled herself up in a deep window-seat, well out of
sight. Eustace guessed she had made such a fright of herself with
crying she was afraid to show her face. He sat near the door into
the great conservatory with a book, pretending to read. Really he
could do nothing but wonder what