"You shall stay with me. But what did you come for?" "A small matter of business brought me," replied Oscar, "and I have to go down tomorrow--thank you all the same." He did not say what the business was; he did not choose to say. Mrs. Dalrymple, still living at the Grange, had been tormented by doubts, touching her son, for some time past. Recently she had heard rumours that rendered her doubly uneasy, and she had begged of Oscar to come up and find out whether there was any, or how much, ground for them. If things were as bad as Mrs. Dalrymple feared, Oscar concluded that from Robert he should hear nothing. He meant to put a question or two to him, to make his observations silently, and, if necessary, to question Reuben. They were of totally opposite natures, these two young men; Oscar was all cool calculation, and the senior by half-a-dozen years; Robert all thoughtless impulse. Oscar put the question to Robert in the course of the afternoon; but Robert simply waived the subject, laughing in Oscar's face the while. And from the observations Oscar made in South Audley Street, nothing could be gathered; the rooms were quiet. They dined there in the evening, Reuben waiting on them. Robert urged various outdoor attractions on Oscar afterwards, but he urged them in vain: Oscar preferred to remain at home. So they sipped their wine, and talked. At eleven o'clock Oscar rose to leave. "It is time for sober people to be in bed, Robert. I hope I have not kept you up." Robert Dalrymple fairly exploded with laughter. Kept him up at only eleven o'clock! "My evening is not begun yet," said he. "No!" returned Oscar, looking surprised, whether he felt so or not. "What do you mean?" "I am engaged for the evening to Colonel Haughton." "It sounds a curious time to us quiet country people to begin an evening. What are you going to do at Colonel Haughton's?" "Can't tell till I get there." "Can I accompany you?" Robert's face turned grave. "No," said he, "it is a liberty I may not take. Colonel Haughton is a peculiar-tempered man." "Good-night." "Good-night, Oscar. Come to breakfast with me at ten." Oscar Dalrymple departed. But he did not proceed to the hotel where he had engaged a bed. On the contrary, he took up his station in a shady nook, whence he could see the door he had just come out of; and there he waited patiently. Presently he saw Robert Dalrymple emerge from it, and betake himself away. A little while yet waited Oscar, and then he retraced his steps to the house, and rang the bell. Reuben answered it. A faithful servant, getting in years now. Robert was the third of the family he had served. "Reuben, I may have left my note-case in the dining-room," said Oscar. "Can I look for it?" The note-case was looked for without success: and Oscar discovered that it was safe in his pocket. Perhaps he knew that all the while. "I am sorry to have troubled you for nothing, Reuben. Did I call you out of your bed?"