Max stopped short and stared at his friend by the light of a gas-lamp.

"Well, you don't look it," said he, shortly.

Dudley laughed loudly, but rather uneasily.

"Don't you think I could give an explanation which would satisfy your
father, if I wished?" he asked, with a sudden relapse into gravity.

"I'm hanged if I know," retorted Max, energetically. "You haven't given
any explanation which would satisfy _me_."

Dudley stared into his face for a few seconds inquiringly, and then
quietly hooked his arm and led him along the Strand.

"You don't want to be satisfied, old chap," said he, in a low voice.
"You know me."

Again Max was deeply touched. This was a sudden and unexpected peep
under the surface of deception into the real heart of his old chum. He
replied only by a slight twitching of the arm Dudley had taken.

They walked on at a quicker pace, and ran up the stairs to the door of
Dudley's rooms in silence.

Dudley went first into the sitting-room and turned up the gas. It did
not escape Max that he shot a hurried glance around the room, taking in
every corner, as he entered. Talking all the time about the cold and the
fog, Dudley went into the adjoining room, and Max saw him pull aside the
bed-curtains and look behind them.