"My dear Jack, how you startled me!" he gasped. "I was never so frightened in my--my life!" "So it appeared," said Jack, with strong disgust in his voice. "Pick up the candle--there it is." And he pointed with his foot. But Stephen was by no means anxious for a light. "Never mind the candle," he said. "You are quite right--I must have seemed out of my mind. I--I am very much upset, my dear Jack." "Are you hurt?" inquired Jack, but with no great show of concern. "No, no!" gasped Stephen; "don't distress yourself, my dear Jack--don't, I beg of you. It was my fault, entirely. The--the fact is that I----" He paused, for Jack had got the candle, lit it, and held it up so that the light fell upon Stephen's face. "Now," he said, his tone plainly intimating that he would prefer to see Stephen's face while he made his explanation. "The fact is," Stephen began again, "I have had the misfortune to lose a pocketbook--no, not a pocketbook, that is scarcely correct, but a paper which I fancied I had put in my pocketbook, and which must have dropped out. It--it was a draft of a little legal document which my lawyer had sent me--of no value, utterly valueless--oh, quite----" "So I should judge from the calm way in which you accused the first man you met of stealing it," said Jack, with quiet scorn. Stephen bit his lip, and a glance of hate and suspicion shot from under his eyelids. "Pray forgive me, my dear Jack," he said, pressing his hand to his brow, and sighing. "If you had sat up for so many nights, and were so worn and overwrought, you would have some sympathy with my overstrained nerves. I am much shaken to-night, my dear Jack--very much shaken." And indeed he was, for the Savage's fist was by no means a soft one. Jack looked at him in silence for a moment, then held the candle toward him. "You had better go to the house and get some of the servants to help you look for the paper," he said. "Good-night." "Oh, it is of no consequence," said Stephen, eagerly. "Don't go--stop a moment, my dear Jack. I--I will walk with you as far as the inn." "No, thanks," said Jack, curtly; then, as a suspicious look gleamed in Stephen's eyes, he added: "Oh, I see! you are afraid I should pick it up in the road. You had better come." Stephen smiled, and laid his hand on Jack's arm. "You--you are not playing a joke with me, my dear Jack? You haven't got the--document in your pocket all the time?" "If I said that I hadn't you wouldn't believe me, you know," he replied. "There, take your hand off my coat!" "Stop! stop!" exclaimed Stephen, with a ghostly attempt at a laugh. "Don't go, my dear Jack; stop at the house to-night. I should feel very much obliged, indeed, if you would. I am so upset to-night that I--I want company. Let me beg of you to stop." And in his dread lest Jack should escape out of sight, he held on to his arm.