r evening afterward, and the challenge.

To all this Jack listened with intense eagerness, and occasional bursts
Of uncontrollable laughter.

I concluded my narrative with my departure from the house. Of my
return, my wanderings with Marion, my sight of him at Berton's, and all
those other circumstances, I did not say a word. Those things were not
the sort that I chose to reveal to anybody, much less to Jack.

Suddenly, and in the midst of his laughter and nonsense, Jack's face
changed. He grew serious. He thrust his hand in his pocket with
something like consternation, and then drew forth--

CHAPTER XXX.

A LETTER!--STRANGE HESITATION.--GLOOMY FOREBODINGS.--JACK DOWN DEEP IN
THE DUMPS.--FRESH CONFESSIONS.--WHY HE MISSED THE TRYST.--REMORSE AND
REVENGE.--JACK'S VOWS OF VENGEANCE.--A VERY SINGULAR AND UNACCOUNTABLE
CHARACTER.--JACK'S GLOOMY MENACES.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I'll be hanged if I haven't forgot all about
it. It's been in my pocket ever since yesterday morning."

Saying this, he held up the letter, and looked at it for some time
Without opening it, and with a strange mixture of embarrassment and
ruefulness in his expression.

"What's that?" said I, carelessly. "A letter? Who's it from, Jack?"

Jack did not give any immediate answer. He turned the letter over and
over, looking at it on the front and on the back.

"You seem hit hard, old man," said I, "about something. Is it a
secret?"

"Oh, no," said Jack, with a sigh.

"Well, what's the matter?"

"OH, only this," said he, with another sigh.

"What, that letter?"

"Yes."

"It don't look like a dun, old chap--so, why fret?"

"Oh, no," said Jack, with a groan.

"What's the reason you don't open it?"

Jack shook his head.

"I've a pretty good idea of what's in it," said he. "There are some
letters you can read without opening them, old boy, and this is one of
them. You know the general nature of the contents, and you don't feel
altogether inclined to go over all the small details."

"You don't mean to say that you're not going to open it?"

"Oh, I'll open it," said Jack, more dolefully than ever.

"Then, why don't you open it now?"

"Oh, there's no hurry--there's plenty of time."

"It must be something very unimportant. You say you've had it lying in
Your pocket ever Since the day before yesterday. So, what's the use of
getting so tragic all of a sudden?"

"Macrorie, old chap," said Jack, in a tone of hollow despair.