“I had no confederate, as you term it, unless you call my Theresa a confederate,” the musician said. “In my travels I take with me an harmonium, and that harmonium is conveyed upon a flat carriage, which you may inspect if you desire. Sir Harold’s inanimate form was placed by myself and daughter upon that carriage and brought here. As for my secrecy, I have my own private reasons, with which my guest is fully acquainted. Answering your complaint concerning proper medical treatment, Sir Harold can satisfy you upon that point, if he considers you worthy of implicit trust.” The colonel bent one of his piercing glances upon Hamilton, and held out his hand, saying: “I believe you, sir. If I have been unreasonably suspicious, forgive me. Now let me see the boy.” “If you will step into my cottage, Colonel Greyson,” Hamilton said, courteously, “I will send Sir Harold to you. He is somewhere in the garden, I have no doubt.” The old soldier permitted himself to be conducted into a little parlor fragrant with the incense of flowers. “If you will wait here, colonel----” “Certainly--certainly!” was the quick interruption. “My nerves are simply quivering with the excitement of expectancy.” The musician withdrew, and when Sir Harold entered, five minutes later, looking well and happy, the colonel held out his hand, saying, tremulously, “Harold, my boy, do you not know me?” The young man took the proffered hand, but there was a puzzled expression on his face. “I have heard the name of Colonel Greyson very often,” he said, “but I do not remember that we have ever met before, sir.” “My Heaven!” groaned the colonel, “this is terrible. Why, my dear boy, who was it that got you out of your scrapes at Cambridge? Who was it that undertook the sole management of your business affairs while you went trying to emulate Livingstone, Stanley and those fellows?” Sir Harold laughed. “You understand, colonel,” he said, “my friend, Mr. Hamilton, who is in reality a clever surgeon, predicts that I shall recover in time, and then we may be able to enter into these matters with mutual interest. At present they are of very little importance to me. Of course, I have heard much that greatly concerns me, and I have no desire to return to Annesley Park as an object of pity and curiosity, if you will be so kind as to see that my affairs do not get muddled. Perhaps I am asking too much.” “Asking too much?” the colonel interrupted, with tears in his eyes. “I would lay down my life for you, Harold. Now, tell me, do your thoughts ever return to Lady--to Lady Elaine?” “Mr. Hamilton has told me something of Lady Elaine, but I really do not remember her, colonel. From what I understand she must be a heartless beauty. I only wonder that I was fool enough to succumb to her wiles.” “Do you wish to see her again?” Greyson asked.