CHAPTER XIV.

THE THIRTEENTH OF OCTOBER.


Just as the boy left the surburban residence of Miss Redbud, Mr.
Roundjacket, who had been writing at his old dusty desk for an hour,
raised his head, hearing a knock at the door.

He thrust the pen he had been using behind his ear, and bade the
intruder "come in!"

One of the clients of Mr. Rushton made his appearance, and inquired
for that gentleman. Mr. Roundjacket said that Mr. Rushton was
"within," and rose to go and summon him, the visitor meanwhile having
seated himself.

Mr. Roundjacket tapped at the door of Mr. Rushton's sanctum, but
received no answer. He tapped louder--no reply. Somewhat irate at
this, he kicked the door, and at the same moment opened it, preparing
himself for the encounter.

An unusual sight awaited him.

Seated at his old circular table, covered with papers and books, Mr.
Rushton seemed perfectly ignorant of his presence, as he had not heard
the noise of the kick. His head resting upon his hand, the forehead
drooping, the eyes half closed, the bosom shaken by piteous sighs,