We spent the rest of that day in a state of effervescence. No one seemed to be able to settle down to anything; and we were so excited that even dinner had little attraction, especially as we were told that father and mother and the strange gentleman had driven off to Colchester.  
"So we shall dine here, then," said Rupert, with a look at Jack, who had fixed himself in an armchair in a most determined attitude; "unless you prefer going up to the tower-room."
 
"Never again," said Jack, gravely; "uncle says we've done him good, and when he comes back I mean to ask for our reward. 'Tis a very good den that we live in, to laugh, or to talk, or to play in; but to hide or to think, or to be quite alone, 'tis the very worst den that ever was known."
 
"Bravo, Jack! poor old Hudibras wouldn't know his own lines if he were here. Give us some more of that sort of thing to make the time pass till uncle comes home. I'm just burning with curiosity."
 
A glass of cold water down his back, under pretence of extinguishing him, ended in the aggressor being put out himself.
 
It seemed a long day in spite of all the fun we managed to get in one way or another; but "be the day weary, be the day long, at length it ringeth to evensong," and about seven o'clock we heard the horse's feet in the yard, and my parents came in alone. Even then we had, of course, to wait a short time before they were ready to tell us what we were longing to hear.
 
"Now I'll tell you all about the mysterious stranger," said father, at last. "But I am tired, and you must not interrupt me. You will have plenty of time to ask questions another day. It is just fifteen years since my half-brother Joe was in this room. His mother died when he was about three years old, and at her request your grandfather sent the little fellow over to Normandy to be brought up by his mother's brother. This brother was a very rich man, and when my father married again he offered to adopt Joe, bring him up as his own son, and leave him all he possessed, if my father would consent. He would not, however, do this, and insisted on Joe returning home at once, so one of my first recollections is being carried about by my big brother Joe. As I got older I used to spend most of my days in the tower-room, where Joe was always busy with some carpentering, or work of one kind or another. Your grandfather was a severe man, very harsh in his management of children, and Joe often resented what he considered his unkindness. That oak chest, which was nearly the cause of your death the other night, Harold, was the cause of our separation. One day the French count came to stay with our father, and Joe, who was really very fond of him, owing to having spent his early years with him, wanted to go back with him; but our father would not consent. Joe tells me now that he distinctly heard the Frenchman say, 'Well, I've made my will in his favour, and I shall leave it with you. I've made you executor, and when I am dead you will let the boy come over to Normandy. It's a pity you won't let him go back with me, for there are people who would like to oust him out of his property if they could.'
 
"Years passed away, and one day, when Joe had been imprisoned in the tower-room for some naughtiness, he ran away, climbing down by those very steps that he climbed up yesterday, and which he had made when quite a youngster, to be able to get in or out of his play-room as he liked. I said your grandfather was a harsh man; and when he heard of Joe's flight, he knew of course he had gone to Normandy, and he made a solemn vow that Joe should never enter the house again. I was about twelve then, and old enough to see that, however harsh my father might be, he really loved his elder son. He was never the same again, and one morning we found him struck by paralysis. He recovered consciousness before he died, and seemed anxiou............