Reginald looked at his brother with a gloomy frown; but Leon's tone seemed sincere, and the thought came to him that his brother could have no reason for concealment. If Leon did not know, he would have to seek what he wished from another--his father. His father and his mother had gone off together; that father alone could tell. “Where is Sir Lionel?” asked Reginald, as these thoughts came to him. He called him “Sir Lionel.” He could not call him “father.” Leon looked at him with a strange expression. “He is here,” said he. “Where shall I find him? I want to see him at once. Is he in his room?” Leon hesitated. “Quick!” said Reginald, impatiently. “Why don't you answer?” “You won't get much satisfaction out of him,” said Leon, in a peculiar voice. “I'll find out what he knows. I'll tear the secret out of him,” cried Reginald, fiercely. “Where is he? Come with me. Take me to him.” “You'll find it rather hard to get any thing out of him,” said Leon, with a short laugh. “He's beyond even your reach, and your courts of law too.” “What do you mean?” cried Reginald. “Well, you may see for yourself,” said Leon. “You won't be satisfied, I suppose, unless you do. Come along. You needn't be alarmed. I won't run. I'll stick to my part of our agreement, if you stick to yours.” With these words Leon led the way out of the library, and Reginald followed. They went up a flight of stairs and along a hall to the extreme end. Here Leon stopped at a door, and proceeded to take a key from his pocket. This action surprised Reginald. He remembered the room well. In his day it had not been used at all, except on rare occasions, and had been thus neglected on account of its gloom and dampness. “What's the meaning of this?” he asked, gloomily, looking suspiciously at the key. “Oh, you'll see soon enough,” said Leon. With these words he inserted the key in the lock as noiselessly as possible, and then gently turned the bolt. Having done this, he opened the door a little, and looked in with a cautions movement. These proceedings puzzled Reginald still more, and he tried in vain to conjecture what their object might be. One cautious look satisfied Leon. He opened the door wider, and said, in a low voice, to his brother, “Come along; he's quiet just now.” With these words he entered, and held the door for Reginald to pass through. Without a moment's hesitation Reginald went into the room. He took but one step, and then stopped, rooted to the floor by the sight that met his eyes. The room was low, and had no furniture but an iron bed. There were two small, deep windows, over which the ivy had grown so closely that it dimmed the light, and threw an air of gloom over the scene.