The notice of this home-coming reached me in the form of a wire.

“Will arrive with party tomorrow.  Have six bedrooms prepared for guests.  Will explain when I see you.”

Six bedrooms!  A house party—­in the very midst of his training!  I couldn’t understand.  A fine hope surged in me.  A house party—­guests!  Could it be that something had happened to change his plans?  Had he given up his bout with Clancy?  I could hardly restrain my impatience and tried to get Jack Ballard on the telephone.  He had left town.  It was very curious; for somewhere in me vague misgivings stirred.  What if—!

The morrow brought the painful solution of my uncertainties.  For toward four o’clock of the afternoon there was a roaring of automobiles in the drive which brought me to the study window, from which vantage point I saw Jerry dismounting from the car in front with three other men, Flynn, Christopher and a large colored man, while from the other car, a hired machine, by the look of it, four other figures descended—­all unloading suit-cases upon the terrace steps—­a motley crowd in flannel shirts and sweaters, with cropped heads, thick necks and red hands, all talking loudly and staring up at the towers of the house as though they expected them to fall on them.  This then was Jerry’s house-party—!  Thugs, cut-throats, apaches—­his pugilist friends from Flynn’s!

[Illustration:  “This then was Jerry’s house-party—!”]

Jerry hurried along the terrace and met me at the hall door, where he burst into unseemly laughter.  I suppose at the expression of dismay which must have been written upon my countenance.  He seized me by both hands and led me indoors.

“There wasn’t any use wiring you the truth, Roger.  I didn’t want to make you unhappy any sooner than I had to.  Are you upset?”

“Nothing can ever upset me again,” I said with dignity.  “It’s your house.  I can move out.”

“But you won’t, Roger,” he clapped an arm around my shoulders and walked me into the study.  “We’re not going to bother you.  But we just had to get away from town for some road work—­and it’s devilish conspicuous anywhere near the city, people watching, reporters and all that sort of thing.”

He turned, for the dismayed servants had come out and stood in a row in the hall aghast at the appearance of the visitors who stood awkwardly shifting their feet in the main doorway, their suit-cases and bundles in their arms, awaiting directions.

“Take those things upstairs—­show ’em, Christopher,” says Jerry.  “You show ’em to their rooms, Poole.  And when you’re washed up, Flynn, come down here again.”

Over his shoulder I watched the hulking devils go past in sheepish single file with furtive glances at me.  When they had passed out of sight, Jerry explained rapidly.

“You see, Roger, we had to do it.  There was no other way.  I needed some running badly and there wasn’t a chance for it—­without the whole thing coming out in the papers.”