"You'll be going to Scotland to see your uncle before you start, I
suppose?" said Lancaster.

"Yes; I'll travel on Sunday night, and spend Monday at Grey House. You
must not think that he and I have quarrelled," Alan said, with a smile.
"It takes two to make a quarrel, you know, and I owe him far too much to
be one of them. I'd have given in to his wishes had it been anything but
an Arctic Expedition. But we shall part good friends, you may be sure."

"It's understood," Bullard remarked, "that he is not to be told of this
little business of ours. As you know, Lancaster and I are his oldest
friends, and he might not regard the business as we should like him to
regard it."

"You may count on my discretion," returned the young man, "and I fancy
Uncle Christopher will be too proud to ask questions. Well, I must
really go."

When the door had closed, Bullard took up the document, folded it, and
placed it in a long envelope.

"Lancaster!"

Lancaster did not seem to hear. He had dropped back into the easy-chair,
his hands to the fire.

Bullard went over and tapped him on the shoulder, and he started.

"What's the matter, Lancaster?"