Bert sat up and slid his feet to the floor. In the doorway stood a slim, pleasant-faced youth, and behind him a very serious-looking man held an extremely large kit-bag, an umbrella, and a folded gray overcoat. The youth advanced toward Bert, smiling and removing a gray glove. “I fancy you are Winslow,” he said. “I’m Ordway. I believe we share these quarters, eh?” [Illustration: “‘I’m Ordway.’”] Bert shook hands. “Glad to know you,” he replied. “Beastly hot, isn’t it? That’s your room over there.” He glanced inquiringly at the second arrival who, still holding his burdens, had paused just inside the door. But if he looked for an introduction none was forthcoming. Ordway, who had now removed both gloves and tossed them nonchalantly to the table, evidently had no thought of making his companion known. “Ripping view from here,” he said, glancing from the window. Then, turning: “In there, Bowles,” he directed, and nodded toward the open door of the bedroom. “Just dump them, will you? I’ll look after them myself.” Bag and coat and umbrella disappeared, Bert’s gaze following their bearer curiously. Ordway had thrust his hands in his pockets and was leisurely examining the study. His manner was a queer mixture of quiet assurance and diffidence. When he had shaken hands he had reddened perceptibly, but now he was looking the place over just as though, as Bert silently told himself, he had ordered the whole thing. “I like this,” he said, after a moment. “Rather jolly, isn’t it?” Bert was spared a reply, for just then the mysterious Bowles appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Shan’t I unpack the bag, sir?” he asked. “No, never mind it, thanks.” Ordway consulted a watch. “I fancy you’d better beat it, Bowles. Your train leaves in fifteen minutes, you know.” “Yes, sir, but there’s another one, sir, a bit later.” “Are you sure of that?” Ordway glanced inquiringly at Bert. “He’s wrong, eh?” “Yes, the next one doesn’t go until seven-five. If he wants to get this one he will have to hustle. It’s a good ten minutes’ walk to the station.” “Thanks. This gentleman’s right, Bowles. You’d better start along. You know your way, eh? Tell mother I’m quite all right; everything’s very jolly.” The boy walked to the door with the man and pulled a leather purse from his pocket. “Better treat yourself to a bit of a jinks when you get to town. You’ll have four hours to wait, you know. Good-by, Bowles.” “Thank you, Master Hugh. Good-by, sir. I hung the coat in the closet, sir, and the keys are on the dresser.” “Right, Bowles. Now beat it or you’ll miss that train. Good-by.” Ordway sauntered back to the study, smiling. “Bowles always gets time-tables twisted,” he chuckled. “Rum chap that way. Bet you anything you like he will miss that train.” “He’s got twelve minutes,” said Bert. “Is he a――a servant?”