On the whole, he thought the police were in the right of it, and that this young man was probably carried away by a certain liking for novel excitement.
"In any case," he said aloud, "I don't see what I can do in the matter." Harkness turned to leave as abruptly as he had come in.

"If you don't, I see what I can do.

I'm going along there to see if I can find them." "As you are in a way responsible for the old man, perhaps that is your duty," replied Trenholme, secretly thinking that on such roads and under such skies the volatile youth would not go very far.
A blast of wind entered the house door as Harkness went out of it, scattering Trenholme's papers, causing his study lamp to flare up suddenly, and almost extinguishing it.
Trenholme went on with his writing, and now a curious thing happened.
About nine o'clock he again heard steps upon his path, and the bell rang.

Thinking it a visitor, he stepped to the door himself, as he often did.

There was no one there but a small boy, bearing a large box on his shoulders.