A sort of spasm passed over Sydney’s face, but they were just stepping out of the elevator, and neither of the boys noticed it. “Yes; he died before I left,” he answered, as they entered his rooms, which he shared with a fellow member of the bar who was now away. “But I’ve got some last things to attend to before I leave. You fellows make yourselves comfortable in there and I’ll be ready in five minutes.” He pointed to the adjoining room, where Rex and Scott at once established themselves in the window and looked down on the busy street far below them. “I didn’t know Tyler was dead,” began Scott. “I heard what Roy did for him on the bridge, though. By George, that was plucky! But by the way, what’s the matter with your brother Sydney? He looks terribly. Didn’t you notice it?” “Of course I did and spoke about it He’s working too hard, I guess. I say, Scott, you won’t tell anybody about my adventure this afternoon?” “Of course I shan’t; only father, to report how insulting that policeman was.” “No, let that go. I wouldn’t like even your father to hear it. I feel humiliated enough that you should know about it. Say, Scott!” Rex paused suddenly. The recollection of his recent experience stung him whenever it came up in his mind. He felt that Scott must be constantly thinking of it, too. He wanted to tell him something that would banish it from his thoughts. “Well, my boy, what is it?” rejoined Scott. “If I tell you something, will you promise to keep it a secret till—till everybody knows it, as they will probably in a day or two?” “Of course I will. It must be something mighty important from your mysterious air, old fellow.” “It is, awfully important.” Rex’s eyes were fixed on Scott’s trowsers. He saw that they were a new pair, evidently purchased to be worn on the trip. What a thing it was to have money so that you could get extra things whenever you wanted them and not be obliged to wait till you could afford it! And the Pells would even be richer than the Bowmans. Rex paused so long while he was thinking over all this that Scott broke in with, “Well, what is it? Don’t keep me on the rack so long.” “Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you,” went on Rex; “but some people know it in Marley already, and you are my best friend, you know. Old man Tyler left his money to mother and it’s something like half a million!” “Reginald Pell!” Scott brought out these words with strong emphasis, then seized his friend’s hand and wrung it heartily. “Don’t!” said Rex, seeing that Syd was coming toward them. “It seems awful to be congratulated now when the old man isn’t buried yet, and—” “What’s that you’re saying?” Sydney had hastened forward and laid his hand on Rex’s shoulder. Rex colored. Syd looked so very serious, and now, as he stood there in the full glare of daylight, the signs of suffering on his face were plainly apparent. “Syd, you are ill?” exclaimed Rex, forgetting about what he had been saying. “You ought to be at home at once.”