"He hates to leave you alone, Celeste; that's the worst obstacle to the plan," said Converse, his lips whitening. "But we'll try to make him--to--I was going to say forget, but that would be impossible. He can't forget that you are here and loving him all the time." Then he was off, confronted by rather arduous conditions. It would be necessary to get together a party of congenial spirits, and it was imperative that it be done in such a way that Jud's suspicion might not be aroused. When his hansom stopped for Jud at 7:30 Converse was thoroughly satisfied with the result of his expedition in search of guests, but he was conscious of a fear that the attempt to take Sherrod "out of himself" would be a failure. A half-dozen good fellows of the old days had promised to come to Vogelsang's at eight, and, under ordinary circumstances, there was no reason why the night should not be a merry one. It all rested with Jud. Converse was gratified to find his friend in excellent spirits. His eyes were bright, his face was alive with interest. The change was so marked that Converse marveled while Celeste rejoiced. If he had any doubts at the beginning, they were dispelled long before the night was over. Sherrod's humor was wild, unnatural. To Converse it soon became ghastly. To the others, it was merely cause for wonder and the subject for many a sly remark about the "muchly married man who finally gets a night off." Going homeward in the hansom, Converse, now convinced that Jud's mind was disordered, asked in considerable trepidation if he really meant to dine out every evening, as he had said to the others at the table. Sherrod's hilarity, worked up for the occasion, had subsided. He was, to the utter bewilderment of his companion, the personification of gloominess. Involuntarily Converse moved away from his side, unable to conquer the fear that the man was actually mad. "Did I say that?" came in slow, mournful tones from the drooping figure beside him. "Yes," was all that Converse could reply. Sherrod's chin was on his breast, his arms hanging limply to the seat. "I don't believe I care much for that sort of thing any more," he said, slowly. "Why, Jud, I thought you had a bully time to-night," cried Converse, in hurt tones. Sherrod looked up instantly. After a moment's silence, his hand fell on the other's knee and there was something piteous in his voice when he spoke. "Did you, old man? How in the world--" here he brought himself up with a jerk--"I should say, how could I help having a good time?" he cried, enthusiastically. "They are the best lot of fellows in the world. I had the time of my life." CHAPTER XXV. THE LETTER TO CRAWLEY.