Mr. William was not living there; but the words
refused to come. He could only stand dumbly
waiting.

In a minute it came--Billy's sharp, startled
cry.

``Bertram! Bertram!''

Bertram sprang for the stairway, but he had
not reached the top when he met his wife coming
down. She was white-faced and trembling.

``Bertram--those rooms--there's not so
much as a teapot there! Uncle William's--
gone!''

``Gone!'' Bertram wheeled sharply. ``Pete,
what is the meaning of this? Where is my
brother?'' To hear him, one would think he
suspected the old servant of having hidden his
master.

Pete lifted a shaking hand and fumbled with
his collar.

``He's moved, sir.''

``Moved! Oh, you mean to other rooms--to
Cyril's.'' Bertram relaxed visibly. ``He's