He was quite sure from his friend's
manner of speaking that he had seen nothing of the handkerchief
and the lace.
Gregson seized the paper lazily, yawned, and slipped it under the
blanket which he had doubled up for a pillow.
"Do you mind if I keep it for a few days. Phil?" he asked.
"Not in the least, if you'll tell me why you want it," said
Philip.
"I will--when I discover a reason myself," replied his friend,
coolly, stretching himself out again in the bunk. "Remember when I
dreamed that Carabobo planter was sticking a knife into you,
Phil?--and the next day he tried it? Well, I've had a funny dream,
I want to sleep on this letter. I may want to sleep on it for a
week. Better turn in if you expect to get a wink between now and
morning."
For half an hour after he had undressed and extinguished the light
Philip lay awake reviewing the incidents of his night's adventure.
He was certain that his letter was in the hands of Pierre and
Jeanne, but he was not so sure that they would respond to it. He
half expected that they would not, and yet he felt a deep sense of
satisfaction in what he had done. If he met them again he would
not be quite a stranger. And that he would meet them he was not
only confident, but determined.
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