“I can’t see the words, Roy,” he said. “Something is the matter with my sight. You will have to read it to me. Never mind if some of the things it says sound strange to you. I will explain them by and by. Here.” Roy took the letter, and read as follows: Mr. Sydney F. Pell. Dear Sir:—Come tomorrow night at midnight. Don’t ring. Knock lightly on the door. Yours truly, Hannah M. Fox. “And that is to-night,” murmured Sydney. “How can I go?” CHAPTER XXIX A MIDNIGHT VISIT “Do you want me to write a note for you saying you can’t come?” said Roy. “No, no. I must go,” replied Sydney. “But you can’t,” Roy was about to answer. Then he checked himself, and said instead: “Well, perhaps you will be well enough to go to-night. Is it far?” for there was no address given in the letter. “No, not very. It is right in the city here. But you can’t write for me. The old lady mustn’t know that you’ve seen her letter. She’d notice the difference in the handwriting. But midnight! What a queer time to appoint. It’s just like her, though. Now I will try and get some sleep so as to help prepare myself for to-night.” The receipt of the letter appeared to have eased Sydney’s mind somewhat, for he slept until well on in the afternoon, and then he woke feeling somewhat better. “I can go to-night, Roy, after all,” he said to his brother cheerfully. But Roy did not see how he could go. Still he thought it was best not to say anything till the time came. Just before night, Sydney called Roy to the bedside. “Order a coupé for me to be here at half past eleven to-night,” he said. “But you are not fit to go, Syd,” the other could not help but respond. “I will be when the time comes,” was the reply. “You will see. Say nothing to the others about it.” “Then let me go with you,” suggested Roy. “Well, perhaps you may, but you will sit in the carriage. Now go out and order it, please.” Roy felt somewhat burdened with a secret to keep from the family. But he trusted Sydney fully, so he felt that it was all right The patient grew a little better in the evening. At half past eight he called Roy to him and whispered: “You had better lie down and get some rest now. Take my alarm clock and put it at quarter past eleven.” But Roy knew it was no use to take the clock. He was sure he could not sleep. He was far too anxious and excited for that. He lay down on the sofa in his own room and tried to read. But he did not see a word on the page. He was thinking of Sydney. Presently Rex came in. He flung himself down on the bed, exclaiming: “Roy, I feel exactly as if something was going to happen. I can’t get to sleep, so there’s no use in my going to bed. I’m worried about Syd. There is something mighty queer about him.” “Oh, he’s much better to-night,” Roy responded encouragingly.