"Things look all right, certainly," was my summing up.

Val wrote to the factor, but the result was not over-promising. He
knew of nothing suitable at present. But he would keep the case in
mind, and write at once should he hear of anything available.

Both Val and I were keen on getting the matter settled, and often
talked it over together, discussing ways and means. But the weeks
slipped by, and we found ourselves no nearer to a solution of the
difficulty. We little dreamed of the quarter from which it was
eventually to come!

One day as we sat at breakfast Elsie brought in a telegram for Val. It
was a somewhat unusual occurrence; for we were a good way from the
office, and, porterage being expensive, we had carefully instructed our
ordinary correspondents that we preferred the humbler post-card, as a
rule. When a telegram did arrive, therefore, it generally presaged
something of unusual importance. I saw Val's face change as he read
it. He passed it over to me as he rose to write a reply. This is what
I saw:

"Gowan dying wants to see you come immediately."

It was signed by a Glasgow doctor, and sent from one of the chief
hotels of the city.

I followed Val to his den, where he was writing the answer.

"Would you mind my coming with you?" I asked.