"I worked my passage over," said Jack, curtly. "I was a bad hand, and caught cold on the top of the last affair, and just managed to pull myself together to reach London, and here I am. Not very lucid, Len, is it? But there's no more to tell." Leonard looked at him with infinite pity, and mixed another glass of whisky. "Poor old Jack," he murmured. "And now it's your turn," said Jack, lighting another cigar. "Tell me all the news, Len, about yourself first. How are Hetley, and Dalrymple, and the rest of them? But yourself first, Len. You look well--better than when I left. Things have gone right with you." "Then you have not forgotten?" said Len, gratefully. "It is not likely," he said, quietly. "I have thought of you many a night as I lay burning with that confounded fever. Are you married?" and he looked round the room as if he expected to see Mrs. Dagle in some dim corner. Leonard blushed. "Nonsense! No, Jack, I'm not married. But--I'm very happy, old man--should have been quite happy, but for missing you." Jack nodded. "I'm glad of that. Glad it has all worked round, and that you have missed me, too. Where is she--Laura Treherne? You see I remember her name." Leonard hesitated, and looked troubled. "I--I'm afraid I mustn't tell you. You see, Jack, there's still some kind of mystery hanging about this love affair of mine. It is Laura's wish that I should keep silent as to her whereabouts. I give you my word I don't understand why. But I don't want to talk of myself and my affairs, Jack. There is something and someone else you want to hear about." Jack looked up with a sudden start, and held up his hand. "No, not a word!" he said. "Don't tell me a word. I--that affair is over--dead and buried. Don't speak her name, Len, for Heaven's sake. Let that rest forever between us." Len sighed. "Tell me more about yourself," said Jack, impatiently, as if anxious to get away from the other subject. "There is some mystery, secret, you say." "Yes," said Leonard, humoring him, "there is a mystery and secret, which, much as I love her, and I hope and believe she loves me, Laura will not trust--well, I will not say 'trust'--which she does not feel authorized to confide to me." "I remember," said Jack, "your telling me that she had some task, or mission, or something to accomplish--sounds strange." "Yes," said Leonard, with a sigh, "and that mission is still unaccomplished, and blocks the marriage. But I am content to wait and trust, and I am happy." Jack sighed. "You deserve to be, old fellow!" he said. "No, I don't!" exclaimed Leonard, remorsefully, "for flaunting my happiness in your face, Jack. And now, here's the supper," he added, as a waiter from a neighboring chop-house brought in a tray. Jack sat down, and Leonard waited upon him, hanging over him, and watching him as if every mouthful he ate did him, Leonard, good; meanwhile chatting cheerfully. "London pretty full, Jack; lots of people up this year."