"Had you much trouble in this quarter?" he asked presently, going to the bedside and looking long and earnestly at Pliny. "Very little. Tommy had some difficulty before they reached me; but he is a plucky little chap, and was firmly resolved upon carrying out your instructions to the letter, so he gained the day. Isn't it remarkable that he should have been the one to assist in the rescue of Mr. Hastings' son?" "Isn't it?" said Theodore, emphatically. "And Mr. Hastings would not lift one finger to assist in _his_ rescue." "What in the world are you going to do next?" said Jim. "In this case I mean," nodding his head toward Pliny. "Going to keep on doing, and when I have done all that I can, give myself up to patient waiting and hopeful praying," was Theodore's solemn answer. When he spoke again it was in a slightly hesitating tone, with a glance at his watch. "There is just one thing more which ought to be done to-night, Jim." "All right," said Jim, promptly. "There's no special use in going to bed to-night, or rather this morning. Too late to pay, so bring on your business. What comes next?" "They ought to know at Hastings' Hall where this young man is." "Ho!" said Jim, with an astonished and incredulous air, "I don't imagine there will be many sleepless eyes in that house if they don't hear of his whereabouts until he appears again. I fancy they are too much accustomed to it." "There is one member of the family who will wait for him, nevertheless." "Who?" "His sister. He remembered it himself, as bad as he was." Jim looked searchingly at the half-averted face of his friend for a moment; then seeming to have come to some conclusion, arose and began to don his overcoat. "Then if I understand you, Mallery, you think that his sister ought to be apprised of his safety, and you judge it would be well, if possible, to do so without disturbing any other members of the family?" This he said after having waited a moment in vain for his friend to speak again. Theodore turned toward him, and eagerly grasped his hand as he spoke: "You understand everything, my dear fellow, better than I can tell it. God bless you for your kindness and thoughtfulness." CHAPTER XXII. POOR PLINY! The surliness of that November night broke into dazzling sunlight the next morning, and the sun was nearly two hours high when Pliny Hastings rolled himself heavily over in bed, uttered a deep groan, and awoke to the wretchedness of a new day of shame and misery and self-loathing.