any message, I will give it to Miss Trelawny; and if you will leave
your address, she can communicate with you if she wishes." The answer
came in such a way that it was easy to see that the speaker was a
kind-hearted man, and a just one.

"My good fellow, I have no fault to find with you personally; and I am
sorry if I have hurt your feelings. I must be just, even if I am
angry. But it is enough to anger any man to find himself in the
position I am. Time is pressing. There is not an hour--not a
minute--to lose! And yet here I am, kicking my heels for six hours;
knowing all the time that your master will be a hundred times angrier
than I am, when he hears how the time has been fooled away. He would
rather be waked out of a thousand sleeps than not see me just at
present--and before it is too late. My God! it's simply dreadful,
after all I've gone through, to have my work spoiled at the last and be
foiled in the very doorway by a stupid flunkey! Is there no one with
sense in the house; or with authority, even if he hasn't got sense? I
could mighty soon convince him that your master must be awakened; even
if he sleeps like the Seven Sleepers--"

There was no mistaking the man's sincerity, or the urgency and
importance of his business; from his point of view at any rate. I
stepped forward.

"Morris," I said, "you had better tell Miss Trelawny that this
gentleman wants to see her particularly. If she is busy, ask Mrs.
Grant to tell her."

"Very good, sir!" he answered in a tone of relief, and hurried away.

I took the stranger into the little boudoir across the hall. As we
went he asked me:

"Are you the secretary?"

"No! I am a friend of Miss Trelawny's. My name is Ross."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Ross, for your kindness!" he said. "My name
is Corbeck. I would give you my card, but they don't use cards where
I've come from. And if I had had any, I suppose they, too, would have
gone last night--"

He stopped suddenly, as though conscious that he had said too much. We
both remained silent; as we waited I took stock of him. A short,
sturdy man, brown as a coffee-berry; possibly inclined to be fat, but
now lean exceedingly. The deep wrinkles in his face and neck were not
merely from time and exposure; there were those unmistakable signs
where flesh or fat has fallen away, and the skin has become loose. The
neck was simply an intricate surface of seams and wrinkles, and
sun-scarred with the burni