arrived at the Fort and were informed that Sir
Frank had not yet returned, but was expected back every moment. In the
meanwhile, as Braddock and Hope were both extremely well known, they
were shown into Random's quarters, which were on the first floor. When
the soldier-servant retired and the door was closed, Hope seated himself
near the window, while Braddock trotted round, looking into things.

"It's a dog kennel," said the Professor. "I told Random that."

"Perhaps we should have waited him in the mess," suggested Archie.

"No! no! no! We couldn't talk there, with a lot of silly young fools
hanging about. I told Random that I would never enter the mess, so he
invited me to come always to his quarters. He was in love with Lucy
then," chuckled the Professor, "and nothing was too good for me."

"Not even the dog kennel," said Hope dryly, for the Professor's chatter
was so rude as to be quite annoying.

"Pooh! pooh! pooh! Random doesn't mind a joke. You, Hope, have no sense
of humor. Your name is Scotch also. I believe you are a Caledonian."

"I am nothing of the sort. I was born on this side of the border."

"You might have been born at the North Pole for all I care," said the
little man politely. "I don't like artists: they are usually silly. I
wish Lucy had married a man of science. Now don't talk rubbish. I know
what you are going to say."

"Well," said Archie, humoring him, "what am I going to say?"

This non-plussed the irritable savant.

"Hum! Hum! hum! I don't know and don't care. Pouf! How hot this room is!
What a number of books of travel Random has!" Braddock was now at the
bookcase, which consisted of shelves swung by cords against the wall.

"Random travels a great deal," Archie reminded him.

"Quite so: quite so. Wastes his money on that silly yacht. But he hasn't
traveled in South America. I expect he's going there. Come here, Hope,
and see the many, many books about Peru and Chili and Brazil. There must
be a dozen, and all library books too."

Archie sauntered towards the shelves.

"I expect Random is getting up the subject of South America, so as to
talk to Donna Inez."

"Probably! probably!" snapped Braddock, pulling several of the books out
of place. "Why, there isn't a--Ah, dear me! What a catastrophe!"

He might well say so, for in his desire to examine the books, they all
tipped off the shelves and lay in a disorderly heap on the floor. Hope
began to pick them up and replace them,