"Going home. They had been out on that South road, nine miles from the city, to attend a dance; had danced and drank by turns all night, and were dashing home between five and six in the morning. So Harcourt says, and he is good authority, for he was right behind them, returning from the same place, and in not much better condition than they until the accident sobered him." Poor Theodore! he had had particulars enough; his heart felt like lead. How _could_ he hope, or work, or pray, any more? They walked in absolute silence to the corner, signaled a car, and made as rapid progress as possible. Only two questions more did Theodore venture: "Did you say Pliny asked for me?" "Yes--or, no, not exactly asked for you, but kept constantly talking about you in a wild sort of way, referring to some promise or pledge of his own, we judged, for he kept saying: 'I never deliberately broke my word to him before,' and then adding in a pitiful tone: 'He will have nothing to do with me now; he will never believe me again,' I think the doctor fears that his brain is injured." It was some moments before Theodore could trust his voice to speak; and then he said, inquiringly: "His parents have been apprised of the accident, of course?" "Why, no," answered Jim, in a startled tone. "At least I doubt it. Nobody seemed to think of it. The fact is, Theodore, we were all frightened out of our wits, and needed your executive ability. I had been down at the depot to see if my freight had come, and arrived on the scene just after the accident occurred. I had just brains enough left to have both gentlemen taken to the hotel and come for you." Arrived at the Euclid House the two young men went up the steps and through the halls so familiar to both of them, and sought at once the room where Pliny had been placed. Two physicians were busy about him, but they drew back thoughtfully as Pliny, catching a glimpse of the new-comer, uttered an eager exclamation. "It's no use," he said, wildly, as Theodore bent over him. "No use, you see; the imps have made up their mind to have me, and they'll get me, body and soul. I'm bound--I can't stir. I promised you--oh yes, I can promise--I'm good at that--they don't mind that at all; but when it comes to performing then they chain me." "That is the way he has raved ever since the accident," said the elder physician, addressing Theodore. "It is an indication of a disordered brain. Are you the young man whom he has been calling? We were in hopes you could quiet him." "Does the disorder arise from liquor," said Theodore, sadly. "Oh no, not at all; at least it is not the immediate cause. Can you control him, do you think?"