The two young men had finished their luncheon before Clayton thought
of the loneliness which his chum's absence would entail upon him.
There were many matters of detail to talk over, and Clayton hastened
his return to the office to deposit his bank-book in order to be
free to give the afternoon to his departing friend.

"I've only my office desk to clear up; it's a short horse and soon
curried," laughed Ferris. "I'll run over to my place and then meet
you at our rooms, so you can see the last of me. We can talk things
over while I pack up."

Ferris was busied with the cashier as young Einstein darted into
Taylor's. The lad's face brightened as he saw Clayton.

"I brought you down this telegram marked 'Rush,'" he said, all out
of breath. "I feared that you might go away for the afternoon." He
was off like a shot, before Clayton tore open the yellow envelope.

It was a private despatch from Hugh Worthington announcing his own
impending departure, and then directing all his mail to be forwarded
to the Palace Hotel, San Francisco.

The last words were: "Kindly send me a private letter by Ferris, and
give me any personal suggestions for handling the firm's business
in my absence. Will write you fully on private affairs from San
Francisco."

When Clayton parted with Ferris at the door of Taylor's, the two
young men wended their separate ways, each busied with the vision