“How could I when you were in the way?” Roy answered smilingly, and
just then Sydney called to him softly from down the hall, “Roy, aren’t
you coming?”
There was no help for it. Roy went to the closet and took down his
overcoat.
“Why, where are you going this time of night, Roy Pell?” demanded Rex.
“Just out for a little while; good night, old fellow. You’d better go
straight to bed.”
“But look here, Roy.” Rex was following him out into the hall. “This is
mighty queer, your going off this way. Does mother know about it?”
Rex ceased abruptly. He had come face to face with Sydney, all dressed
for the street.
“Reggie, what are you doing up?” Sydney asked, and to Rex his voice
sounded cold and stern.
“I fell asleep on Roy’s bed. But where are you two going? You’re not
fit to be out of bed, Syd,” as the latter reeled and made a quick
clutch at the bannisters.
“Rex, help me down stairs with him and don’t make any noise.” Roy spoke
in an authoritative tone, and Rex meekly obeyed.
“Perhaps Rex had better come along, too. I ordered a coach, so that you
could put your feet up. There’ll be plenty of room.”
Roy whispered this in Sydney’s ear as they went slowly down the stairs.
“All right; just as you say. I suppose it won’t make much difference
how soon you all know now.”
“Rex, you may come along if you like,” said Roy, when they reached the
lower hall, and Sydney was sitting on the settee. “Run up quickly and
get your coat.”
Rex eagerly seized the opportunity, and in five minutes they were all
in the carriage, and the driver had started for Seventh Street.
Sydney was considerably exhausted by the effort he had already made. He
lay back in the seat breathing heavily.
“Do you know where we are going and what for?” Rex leaned forward to
whisper in Roy’s ear.
“It’s a mystery to me, too, but we want to watch out carefully that no
harm comes to Syd,” Roy whispered back.
When the carriage halted before the little dwelling where Mrs. Fox
lived Roy started to get out, but Sydney drew him back.
“No, I must be alone,” he said. “Have the carriage wait here till I
come out.”
But he had scarcely taken a step from the carriage when his weakness
overpowered him. He tottered, and would have fallen had not Rex sprung
out and caught him. Roy was at his other side in an instant, and
together the two boys supported him.
“You will have to help me up to the door, I guess,” he whispered
faintly; “but don’t ring; knock lightly.”
There was no one passing at the moment, nor did any light shine from
the interior of the place, Roy knocked against the glass in the door,
and the latter was opened on the merest crack.
“Who’s there?” came the demand in a quivering old woman’s voice.
“Sydney Pell. I am ill, but I was bound to come. My two brothers are
with me. Can’t they help me in to a seat? They will then go away
again.”
“No, no; they can’t come in,” was the quick response. “There must be no
noise. It’s a risk to have you here.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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