NIGHT THE SIXTH.
221
"Is Mr. Hammond here? If so, he is wanted down-stairs."
"No, he's not," was the quick answer. "What sent you here for him, hey?"
"The fact that I expected to find him in your room," was my firm answer.
Green was about shutting the door in my face, when some one placed a hand on his shoulder, and said something to him that I could not hear.
"Who wants to see him?" he inquired of me.
Satisfied, now, that Hammond was in the room, I said, slightly elevating my voice:
"His mother."
The words were an "open sesame" to the room. The door was suddenly jerked open, and with a blanching face, the young man confronted me.
"Who says my mother is down-stairs?" he demanded.
"I come from her in search of you," I said.
