The following morning he tried to get up, but his head was so dizzy that he was forced to drop back on the pillow again.  Fortunately he had not locked his door this time, so that when they came to inquire about him, they were able to get in.

It was Roy who came first.

“My mail from the office,” was all Sydney had strength to say when he saw him.

“Yes, I will bring it for you,” replied Roy, and he decided to give up school for the day.

The doctor was summoned again, and prescribed perfect quiet, but after he had gone, Sydney asked so persistently if Roy had come with his letters, that when he did arrive, Mrs. Pell thought that the quickest way to quiet the patient was to let him come in with them.

“I only want to see one of them,” Sydney whispered quickly, as Rex took a seat by the bedside, some dozen letters in his lap.

“Which one, Syd?” asked Roy, gently.

“It is from an old lady—­ a Mrs. Fox.  It will probably be in a plain envelope.”

“Perhaps this is it, then.  Shall I open it and see?”

“No, no.  Give it to me,” replied Sydney quickly.

He took the envelope and the knife Roy handed to him, but his fingers trembled so that he could do nothing.

“I shall have to let you open it after all, Roy,” he said, and handed them both back.

Roy slit the end of the envelope in a second, and once more put it into his brother’s hands.  With dilated eyes and breath coming in brief gasps, Sydney drew out the inclosure.

He unfolded it and looked eagerly at the signature.

“I can’t see quite clearly, Rex,” he said after an instant.  “Is that Fox signed to this?”

“Yes.  Hannah M. Fox.”

“Thank you.”  Sydney turned to the front page and began to read.  Suddenly he gave a little cry.

“I can’t see the words, Roy,” he said.  “Something is the matter with my sight.  You will have to read it to me.  Never mind if some of the things it says sound strange to you.  I will explain them by and by.  Here.”

Roy took the letter, and read as follows: 

  Mr. Sydney F. Pell.

  Dear Sir:—­ Come tomorrow night at midnight.  Don’t ring.  Knock
  lightly on the door.  Yours truly,

Hannah M. Fox.

“And that is to-night,” murmured Sydney.  “How can I go?”

CHAPTER XXIX

 A midnight visit

“Do you want me to write a note for you saying you can’t come?” said Roy.

“No, no.  I must go,” replied Sydney.

“But you can’t,” Roy was about to answer.  Then he checked himself, and said instead:  “Well, perhaps you will be well enough to go to-night.  Is it far?” for there was no address given in the letter.

“No, not very.  It is right in the city here.  But you can’t write for me.  The old lady mustn’t know that you’ve seen her letter.  She’d notice the difference in the handwriting.  But midnight!  What a queer time to appoint.  It’s just like her, though.  Now I will try and get some sleep so as to help prepare myself for to-night.”