"Stay," I urged, "I'll explain it as well as I can, if you'll have patience." I had made up my mind to tell Bob as much as I could of the mystery surrounding the dead man, and ask his assistance. Silently and almost incredulously he listened to my statement, as I briefly ran over the events of the night I had spent with the stranger. When I had finished, he asked,-- "And did you leave the body there, and not utter a word to any one? That was scarcely like yourself, was it?" "But what was I to do? I should have been mixed up in the scandal again; and the question arises, where would it have ended?" "And did you not search that box for further proof of his assertion? There might have been valuable evidence there." "There might! What an idiot I must have been not to think of that at the time. Supposing there were letters from--from--" "From the murderer? That is quite possible. Why not go and look at once?" After discussing the matter at some length, it was decided that as soon as night fell I should go to the house alone, so as to lessen the risk of detection, and search the box. With this arrangement we separated, a load having been taken off my mind by this even partial confession to Bob. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. A MIDNIGHT SEARCH. The hours crept on very slowly that day. To me they seemed interminable. A thousand times I glanced at the little clock that ticked so sharply on the mantelshelf, but its small hand sullenly, as it seemed, refused to move any faster. Feeling that the suspense was becoming unbearable, I tried a short walk in the Strand. Scarcely had I gone a hundred yards along that busy thoroughfare before I espied Demetrius. He was strolling along in the same aimless fashion as myself. At first my impulse was to go and salute him, for his cheerful companionship might do much to arrest my melancholy feelings, and make the time pass rapidly. My next thought, however, was to avoid him, for he would be certain to notice my preoccupation, and might put me to trouble in framing evasive answers. While I was thus debating with myself, he settled the point by catching sight of me and coming cheerfully up. "Hey-day! and why so cheerless?" he cried, as he clasped me warmly by the hand. It was a favourite expression of his, and one which he very frequently used, in spite of its antiquated ring. "Did I look cheerful?" I responded, purposely answering his inquiry oppositely. "The fact is I've come out to kill an hour or two, and when one is seeking amusement it's not difficult to find it in the streets of this great city of ours, is it?" He glanced at me with a curious expression in his eyes, and I wondered whether he saw through the forced flippancy of my reply.