"Do you want me to write a note for you saying you can't come?" said Roy.

"No, no. I must go," replied Sydney.

"But you can't," Roy was about to answer. Then he checked himself, and said instead: "Well, perhaps you will be well enough to go to-night. Is it far?" for there was no address given in the letter.

"No, not very. It is right in the city here. But you can't write for me. The old lady mustn't know that you've seen her letter. She'd notice the difference in the handwriting. But midnight! What a queer time to appoint. It's just like her, though. Now I will try and get some sleep so as to help prepare myself for to-night."

The receipt of the letter appeared to have eased Sydney's mind somewhat, for he slept until well on in the afternoon, and then he woke feeling somewhat better.

"I can go to-night, Roy, after all," he said to his brother cheerfully.

But Roy did not see how he could go. Still he thought it was best not to say anything till the time came.

Just before night, Sydney called Roy to the bedside.

"Order a coupé for me to be here at half past eleven to-night," he said.

"But you are not fit to go, Syd," the other could not help but respond.

"I will be when the time comes," was the reply. "You will see. Say nothing to the others about it."

"Then let me go with you," suggested Roy.

"Well, perhaps you may, but you will sit in the carriage. Now go out and order it, please."

Roy felt somewhat burdened with a secret to keep from the family. But he trusted Sydney fully, so he felt that it was all right The patient grew a little better in the evening.

At half past eight he called Roy to him and whispered: "You had better lie down and get some rest now. Take my alarm clock and put it at quarter past eleven."

But Roy knew it was no use to take the clock. He was sure he could not sleep. He was far too anxious and excited for that. He lay down on the sofa in his own room and tried to read. But he did not see a word on the page. He was thinking of Sydney.

Presently Rex came in. He flung himself down on the bed, exclaiming: "Roy, I feel exactly as if something was going to happen. I can't get to sleep, so there's no use in my going to bed. I'm worried about Syd. There is something mighty queer about him."

"Oh, he's much better to-night," Roy responded encouragingly.

"Yes, I know; but it's his actions all through this thing that I'm worried about. Do you know that I sometimes think, Roy--" here Rex sat up on the bed and lowered his voice impressively--"I sometimes think that perhaps there was a touch of insanity in Syd's family. You know we are always forgetting that he isn't one of us."

"Is it anything in particular makes you think that, Reggie?" said Roy, wondering what Rex would say if he knew about that night's expedition.

"Well, yes, one thing taken with a lot of other things," and he proceeded to tell of what Sydney had said to him at the office when he went down there the previous night.

"He seems to have the idea that he has committed some crime," Rex went on. "I really think that we ought to watch him carefully."

"It doesn't seem to me to be as serious as that," responded Roy. "But as you say, we ought to watch him carefully."

Rex lay quiet for a time. Roy's thoughts were disturbing ones. Reginald, too, was worrying over Sydney's condition. But that note from Hannah Fox was something tangible. There was no chimera of the imagination about that.

Perhaps it was a real anxiety that was preying on Syd's mind. Very likely something connected with his parentage.

Roy had not thought of this before. He was about to suggest it to relieve his brother's mind when he looked up and saw that Rex was asleep.

Then he glanced at the clock on the bureau and saw that it pointed to five minutes to eleven.

"I'll let him sleep on now," he decided, "or he'll be sure to be around when we go, and I'm sure Syd doesn't want him to know."

Roy went across the hall to his elder brother's room.

He found him sitting on the side of the bed, looking very pale.

"I guess you'll have to help me dress, Roy," he said with a sorry sort of smile.

"Perhaps you'd better send a telegram," Roy rejoined. "There won't be any handwriting to recognize on that."

&qu............