That swept away the black, mental cobwebs once more for a time about Guest's brain, and he went away relieved--but not before writing his intention of dropping in about ten that night, and thrusting his card in at the slit--to dine at his club, after which he went into the library to read up some old legal cases, and think about Edie. He was punctual to the time appointed in Benchers' Inn, but there was no light in Stratton's window, none in Brettison's, and he waited till eleven in the expectation of seeing his friend come back. At the above hour he became convinced that Stratton had returned early and gone to bed, so he went to his own chambers vexed and irritated, after dropping another card into the letter-box, making an appointment for the next evening at seven. "Take him out for a bit of dinner. He seems to be very busy just now, or else he is behaving very sensibly and taking exercise to get back his strength." Guest went to Benchers' Inn the next evening at seven, but the outer door was closed, and after waiting for some time he went off to his club and wrote a letter begging Stratton to make an appointment to see him. Next day glided by and there was no reply. The chambers were still closed, and the Brades had not seen their occupant; neither had Mr Brettison come back. Guest made light of the matter, and then went and called on the admiral, who promptly begged him to stay to dinner, but the young man refused, glanced at Edie, and stayed. This delayed the visit which he had intended to pay Miss Jerrold, but he went to her on the following day to report his ill success, and then to the great institution where his friend ruled over the natural history specimens. To his surprise Stratton was not there, one of the officials informing him that his chief had taken a month's vacation to recover his health. "He seemed so broken down, sir, by study, that the committee suggested it." "And never said a word to me," thought Guest. "Well, the man who says poor old Mal is mad is a fool, but he certainly does act very queerly. Never mind. He'll come all right in time." More days glided by, and Guest became alarmed, for he could get no tidings of Stratton. The chambers were always closed, and no notice was taken of the letters; so he went to Bourne Square on business--he made a point of going there on business whenever he could--and was shown into the drawing room, where Myra greeted him very kindly, though he noted a peculiar, anxious, inquiring look in her eyes two or three times before she rose and left the room. "Now, Mr Guest," said Edie as soon as they were alone, "you have something to communicate?" "Something I want to say, but don't be quite so businesslike." "I must," she said sharply. "Now tell me: something from--about Mr Stratton." He told her of his ill success, and she frowned.