turbulent. He was silent during the drive, which was not long,
and I smiled to myself in the darkness of the early morning as I
heard, now and then, an uncontrollable sigh break through his dry
lips. Of thankfulness, perhaps.

I preceded him up the stoop and into the hall of the old house on
lower Fifth Avenue, near Tenth Street, that had been the home of
our grandfather and our father before us. There, in the dim
light, I halted and turned, while Evans approached from the inner
rooms, rubbing eyes heavy with sleep.

Good old Evans! Yet the faithfulness of such a servant has its
disadvantages.

"Well?" said Harry in a thin, high voice.

The boy's nerves were stretched tightly; two words from me would
have produced an explosion. So I clapped him on the shoulder and
sent him off to bed. He went sulkily, without looking round, and
his shoulders drooped like those of an old man; but I reflected
that that would all be changed after a few hours of sleep.

"After all, he is a Lamar," I said to myself as I ordered Evans
to bring wine and sandwiches to the library.

It was the middle of the following afternoon before Harry
appeared down-stairs. He had slept eleven hours. I was seated in
the library when I heard his voice in the hall:

"Breakfast! Breakfast for five at once!"