"I tell you what to do, Mr. Stanton," Bennett continued, recovering his wonted self-possession. "You just go up to the house, and make yourself at home there till Mr. Farnham gets back. You know what a big place it is, and how glad the chief is to fill it with his friends, especially such friends as you. Then, by the end of next week, anyhow----" I interrupted him impatiently. "What, will he be away till then?" "I should think it was probable from what he said before he left, sir." "I wish," I exclaimed desperately, "that you could see your way to making things a little clearer for me. I don't want to pry into Farnham's affairs, of course--that goes without saying. But perhaps, without any betrayal of confidence, you might let me know exactly what he did tell you in regard to his return." "Well," said Bennett, with a short laugh, "seeing it's you! The fact is, Mr. Stanton, it'll be a considerable relief to my mind to talk over the matter, and ask your opinion as to one or two points that have been rather troubling me." He glanced up into my face, almost for the first time since we had begun the discussion, and I saw that I was to hear something which he considered of importance. Of how great importance it was to prove for me, I did not dare to dream. CHAPTER XXI A Picture from the Past "The fact is," said Bennett, "I haven't quite known what to make of Mr. Farnham since he's been back on this side the herring-pond. Of course he hasn't been well, but that would hardly be enough to account for the change in him. Did you see him, may I ask, Mr. Stanton, when he was in England?" I informed him that I had done so, not thinking it best to volunteer the statement that I had only met him once. "And did he seem like himself?" This was rather turning the tables upon me. I was not prepared to answer many questions, but without hesitation I replied to this one, saying that, in my opinion, Farnham had seemed uncommonly jolly and well. Bennett looked thoughtful. "He got home here in Denver at night," he said, "after telegraphing from New York he was coming; I went to call at his request--another wire--not a letter--and he saw me in bed. Mr. Farnham is fond of plenty of light and noise as a rule, but in his bedroom he had refused to have the electricity turned on, and there was only a lamp on the table, as far as possible from the bed. I called out, 'How do you do?' in my usual tones, but he answered me almost in a whisper. There were some important papers which had been waiting for him to sign, and I had taken them with me, thinking he'd be anxious to attend to them--he was always so keen and prompt in business--but he seemed quite angry when I suggested it, and said he wasn't to be bothered about anything of the sort for a week.