"You've got the desk!" I cried. Notwithstanding my anxiety for Sophy the news excited me, and my attention was diverted from her for a moment. "Yes," said Bob, with a laugh in which I detected a shade of bitterness, "we've got the desk. For all the good it's worth. When she hopped into my room with it she was as bright as a cricket. Later on sent her to bed. Supposed her to be asleep, when she tumbled into the room again with a face like--well, look at it. Thought she'd have a fit. She'd had a nightmare." "I hadn't," gasped Sophy. "I'll take your word for it," said Bob. "Anyway, she wouldn't open her lips to me. Very mysterious. She will to you, most likely." "Yes, I will," said Sophy, still clinging to me; she was trembling all over. "Thought as much," said Bob, who seemed to feel this lack of confidence in him very acutely. "There are things to tell. My proposition--if I may be allowed to make one--is that we begin at the beginning, else we shall get muddled." "It's the properest way," said Sophy. "Thank you. Even this slight mark of approval appreciated by yours truly. Do I gather that we are friends, Sophy, no longer Maria?" "In course we are; but I ain't 'ad no nightmare, I've 'ad a scare." She offered him her hand, and it really put life into him. He spoke more briskly. "Let us get back to the hotel," he said. "Everything down there in black and white--except Sophy's scare--the reason for which I shall be glad to hear, if permitted." "If he likes," said Sophy, "he can tell yer everythink when he 'ears it 'isself. It's best it should be led up to." She addressed these last words to me. "For which purpose," said Bob; "march." I listened to all this in amazement, but I fell in with their humor to have Sophy's scare properly led up to, and we walked to the inn in comparative silence. "When did you have your last meal, Sophy?" I asked. "Two o'clock. Biled beef and cabbage." "You oaf," I said good-humoredly to Bob, "that's the reason of her being so white. She has been ten hours without food." Bob clapped his hand to his forehead. "I am an ass," he said. "You ain't," said Sophy, promptly, "and it ain't what made me white. But I shouldn't turn my back on a bit of grub." "And a bit of grub you shall have," said Bob, "the moment we are in our room. I've got the right side of the landlady. Cold meat and pickles always on tap for Bob Tucker." In the room Bob was as good as his word. A cold supper was spread before Sophy, and a glass of weak brandy and water mixed for her. She ate with avidity, and while she was thus employed Bob turned his attention to me. "My diary comes in handy here," he said, and he pushed the book toward me. "You will find everything entered, saves a world of talk." I skimmed through the pages till I reached yesterday's date, under which I found my departure for London duly recorded, the brief entry being: "Agnold restless. Gone to London. For no particular reason--but gone."