ed. Young Maxwell
took one."

"Maxwell died of dysentery."

"Ah, that accounts for it. The other I gave to a sailor. He promised to
deliver it."

"To whom did you write?"

"To Dora. I asked her to go to mother and explain things, so as not to
give too great a shock. You don't mean to say that my mother doesn't
know!"

"No, of course not--not through Dora, at any rate."

"Good heavens! Let's get to a telegraph-office, and I'll send her word at
once. And father, too--dear old dad--he's had two months of sorrow that
might have been avoided. What a fool I was! I ought to have telegraphed
from Copenhagen."

"Copenhagen!"

"Yes; I escaped--nearly died of hunger--got on board a Danish ship as
stowaway, and arrived at Copenhagen half-starved. But I wasn't up to
traveling for a bit. I'm pulling around, gradually. I'm--well, to be
sure! And mother doesn't know. What a surprise it will be! What a
jollification! What a--!"

"Here, hold up, Dick--hold up, man--you're tottering."

The colonel's strong hand kept Dick on his feet. He led the young man
gently through the vestibule.

"Here, come to a quiet place. You mustn't be seen in public," growled the
colonel.

"Why not?" asked Dick. "I'm a little faint. You see, I haven't much
money. I had to borrow. A square meal, at your expense, would do me a
world of good, colonel. Let's go to the dining-room."

"Very well. We can get a quiet table there. But I want you to understand
at once that, though I'm here, I'm not your friend."

"Eh? What?"

"Well, you can't expect it."

"Oh, you're angry with me because I'm fond of Dora. I suppose you saw my
telegram and--intercepted it."

"Yes."

"Then Dora doesn't know!"

"No, Dora doesn't know--nor will she know. Better be dead, my boy--better
be dead!"

"I beg your pardon?" queried Dick, gazing at the colonel with dull, tired
eyes.

The colonel vouchsafed no explanation, but led the way into the
dining-room. He selected a table in a corner, and thrust the menu over to
Dick. The sick man's eyes ran listlessly down the card, and he gave it
back.

"I'm too done. You order. Perhaps, a drink'll pull me up."

The colonel ordered brandy. He was now able to get a better look at the
returned hero. The change in the young man shocked him, and he could see
that the hand of death had clutched Dick harshly before letting him go.

"What was it--fever?" he asked, with soldier-like abruptness, as he
scanned the lean, weary face.