“I did intend to,” said John, mounting the stairs, followed by Jeffrey with his bag, “but I had a chance to drive up with some friends, and the day is so beastly that I took advantage of it.  How is my father?” he asked after entering the chamber, which struck him as being so strangely familiar and so familiarly strange.

“Well, sir,” said Jeffrey, “he’s much about the same most ways, and then again he’s different, too.  Seeing him every day, perhaps I wouldn’t notice so much; but if I was to say that he’s kind of quieter, perhaps that’d be what I mean, sir.”

“Well,” said John, smiling, “my father was about the quietest person I ever knew, and if he’s grown more so—­what do you mean?”

“Well, sir,” replied the man, “I notice at table, sir, for one thing.  We’ve been alone here off and on a good bit, sir, and he used always to have a pleasant word or two to say to me, and may be to ask me questions and that, sir; but for a long time lately he hardly seems to notice me.  Of course, there ain’t any need of his saying anything, because I know all he wants, seeing I’ve waited on him so long, but it’s different in a way, sir.”

“Does he go out in the evening to his club?” asked John.

“Very rarely, sir,” said Jeffrey.  “He mostly goes to his room after dinner, an’ oftentimes I hear him walking up an’ down, up an’ down, and, sir,” he added, “you know he often used to have some of his friends to dine with him, and that ain’t happened in, I should guess, for a year.”

“Have things gone wrong with him in any way?” said John, a sudden anxiety overcoming some reluctance to question a servant on such a subject.

“You mean about business, and such like?” replied Jeffrey.  “No, sir, not so far as I know.  You know, Mr. John, sir, that I pay all the house accounts, and there hasn’t never been no—­no shortness, as I might say, but we’re living a bit simpler than we used to—­in the matter of wine and such like—­and, as I told you, we don’t have comp’ny no more.”

“Is that all?” asked John, with some relief.

“Well, sir,” was the reply, “perhaps it’s because Mr. Lenox is getting older and don’t care so much about such things, but I have noticed that he hasn’t had anything new from the tailor in a long time, and really, sir, though perhaps I oughtn’t to say it, his things is getting a bit shabby, sir, and he used to be always so partic’lar.”

John got up and walked over to the window which looked out at the rear of the house.  The words of the old servant disquieted him, notwithstanding that there was nothing so far that could not be accounted for without alarm.  Jeffrey waited for a moment and then asked: 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. John?  Will you be having luncheon here, sir?”

“No, thank you, Jeff,” said John; “nothing more now, and I will lunch here.  I’ll come down and see Ann presently.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Jeffrey, and withdrew.