"Well, well!" Good's face was illumined with smiles. "I say, that's fine," he cried. "Most extraordinary, too," he added, under his breath. Then he surveyed the neatness and harmonious quiet of the room. His eyes, with a little gleam in them, roamed comfortably into every corner. "It's worth being laid up to get a taste of this," he cried naïvely. "You see, I've never seen anything just like this," he added, almost apologetically, with the little deprecatory lift of his hands that had already fastened itself upon Roger as characteristic. "It's too good to be true!" For a moment Roger was silent at this display of ingenuousness. Then he spoke as he would have expected to be spoken to, had their positions been reversed. "I'll send in for your clothes--and things--if you'll give me your address...." The tall man's expression of content faded. It was succeeded by a look of what might be taken for pain, or embarrassment,--or both. "They're all here," he said quietly. "It wouldn't be worth while to send after a toothbrush and a comb, would it. That's all there is--home." "Oh--I beg your pardon," said Roger, reddening. Then he cursed himself for the tactlessness of the apology. "Nothing to blush at, my boy," cried Good. "Lend me a suit of pajamas, instead." Roger rose hastily. He welcomed the opportunity to escape from this curious creature, who said such curious things, and who possessed but one suit of clothes. As very rarely happened, he found himself at a loss for words. "Can I do anything else?" he asked from the doorway. "Yes--you can thank your sister--from the bottom of my heart--for having introduced me to her motor-car ... and _this_--" he waved his hand around comprehensively, and smiled. "Anything else?" "Well, you might call up _The World_ and tell them that I won't be down to-morrow. You might add that I fell down on the Wynrod story ... that I'm in the camps of the Persians." Then, when Roger looked puzzled, he yawned luxuriously and stretched his arms over his head. And after another yawn, he closed his eyes. "That's all, thanks. Tell 'em not to wake me--for a week...." CHAPTER II A BLOW--AND A RESOLUTION I