'I think,' said Purvis, 'that these new phospherine things are doing me some good. But I sleep so little now. I don't suppose there's an hour of the night when I 'm so sound asleep a whisper would not wake me.' 'It takes a good loud gong,' said Ross, 'to make me even realize that I am in bed.' 'At home,' said Peter, 'I once had an alarm-clock fixed above my bed to wake me, and at last I told the man who sold it to me that it never struck; and really I thought it did not until he showed me that it worked all right.' 'There is a beastly bell for the out-of-door servants at Hulworth,' said Toffy, 'which is beside my window, and----' 'I know that bell,' said Peter. 'I tie it up regularly every time I am at Hulworth.' 'Have you also got a country seat?' asked Mr. Purvis. 'Oh, Hulworth is a mouldy old barrack,' replied Toffy. '"Country seat" is too fine a name for it.' 'Is it quite near Bowshott?' asked Purvis. 'No, it's nine miles off,' said Peter, 'unless you ride across country.' 'I wish,' he said to Ross that evening as they sat together in the corridor, 'that I had any one else to help me in this affair except Purvis.' Ross knew the whole story, and was as trustworthy and straightforward a man as ever breathed. 'I wish you had,' he said cordially; 'but in his own creepy fashion I believe Purvis is working for you as well as he can, and he has an extraordinary knowledge of this country and its language. You see, it is not as if you were looking for your brother amongst the most respectable English colonists in the land. You may have to hunt for him in some remarkably queer places, and it is there, it strikes me, that Purvis will help you.' 'I wish the thing were settled one way or another,' said Peter, 'so that I might know where I stand. You see, if my brother is alive---- Well?' 'Nothing, only I thought I heard something moving outside the wire-netting, and I hate the way Purvis creeps about.' 'Purvis is putting his little boy to bed and hearing him say his prayers,' said Toffy. 'He is a queer mixture.' Rosa rose, and walking to the edge of the corridor peered out into the pitch-black night. 'It 's so dark,' he said, 'I cannot see a thing.' 'Never mind,' said Peter, 'there are no wild beasts to spring at you unawares. Do you remember poor Cranley, who was in Pitt's house at Eton? Did you ever hear how he was killed in his veranda in India by a tiger?' 'Yes,' said Ross absently, 'awfully sad thing. Do you know, Peter, I believe I must walk round to the other side of the house and see if that chap is really putting his child to bed.' CHAPTER XIII