front door shut softly, and he was gone, and the judge sat alone, his
head thrown back against his chair, his face luminous.

The other man swung down the dark street, rushing, agitated. As he came
to the corner an electric light shone full on him and a figure crossing
down toward him halted.

"Father! I was coming to find you. Something extraordinary has happened.
I was coming to find you."

"Yes, Dick." The older man waited.

"I've just left Charley Owen at the house--you remember Charley Owen?"

"No."

"Oh, yes, you do--he's been here with--Jack. He was in Jack's class in
college--in Jack's and Ben Armstrong's. He used to go on shooting trips
with them both--often."

"I remember now."

"Yes, I knew you would." The young voice rushed on. "He has been away
just now--down in Florida shooting--away from civilization. He got all
his mail for a month in one lump--just now--two days ago. In it was a
letter from Jack and Ben Armstrong, written that night, written
together. Do you see what that means?"

"What!" The word was not
a question, but an exclamation.