But suddenly a strange thing happened. One day Bertie went out in the morning alone, and did not come in to lunch. After luncheon, at the club, no Bertie, nor yet at dinner. He did not come home in the evening; he had left no clue. Frank, extremely uneasy, sat up half the night--no one. Two days went by--still no one. Frank inquired right and left, and at last gave information to the police. At last one morning, before Frank was up, Bertie appeared at his bedside with an apologetic smile; Frank must not be angry with him; he surely had not been alarmed? You see such a monotonously genteel life had suddenly been too much for him. Always these elegant ladies, with trains and diamonds; always clubs full of lords and baronets; and skating-rinks--the pink of finery! Always a chimney-pot hat, and every evening full dress, with the regulation button-holer. It was intolerable! He could endure it no longer; it had been too much for him. "But where did you hide yourself?" asked Frank, in utter amazement. "Oh, here and there, among old acquaintance. I have not been out of London." "And you did not know a soul here?" "Oh, well, no fashionable folk, like your friends, but a scapegrace or two. You are not vexed with me?" Frank had sat up in bed to talk to him. He saw that he looked pale, weary, and unkempt. His trousers were deeply bordered with mud; his hat crushed; there was a three-cornered rent in his great-coat. And he stood there in evident confusion, like a boy, with his doubting, coaxing smile. "Come, do not be cross with me; take me into favour once more." This was too much for Frank. Provoked beyond measure, he exclaimed: "But, Bertie, what a cad you look! And where on earth have you been?" he asked again. "Oh; here and there." And he could get no more out of him. Bertie would only say that he had wanted to disappear; and now he was tired--- he would go to bed. He slept till three in the afternoon. Frank laughed over it all day, and Bertie went into fits when he heard of the police. At dinner, at the club, he related, with a melancholy face, that he had been out of town for a few days, attending a funeral. Frank had failed to receive a note through the carelessness of a servant. "But where in the world have you really been?" whispered Frank for the third time, infinitely amused and inquisitive. "Here and there, I tell you--first in one place, and then in another," answered Bertie, with the most innocent face in the world; and, dapper as ever, he delicately lifted an oyster, his little finger in the air, and swallowed down his half-dozen without another word on the subject. IV.