grew pleasanter at each step. In his hand was a telegram envelope.
"Mr. Hilliard," said the man, stepping aside.
"Aha, boys!" he exclaimed, hurrying across the thick Turkish rug and presenting a fat, white hand, "here you are, I declare, safe and sound! You sent me this message here, which somebody has taken the trouble to mix up on the way, so that I can't get the hang of it, though otherwise I should have given you up. Come in, come right in!" he went on, cordially clasping a hand of each. "This is Philip Touchtone, and this Gerald, according to friend Marcy's description. You're both very welcome. My, what's the matter? O, your cab! Cripps, pay the cab—here—and, Cripps, tell Barney to call at ten to-morrow morning to take us to that Halifax boat."
Literally open-mouthed in bewilderment, Philip and Gerald allowed the hospitable little gentleman do as he pleased, and to stand pumping their hands up and down.
"Excuse me, sir," Philip began, stammering, "but—but there is certainly some mistake. You are surely not the gentleman we met on the train to-day—and—"
