added that Mr.
Armadale's friend--Mr. Midwinter--had only left that morning. Where had
Mr. Armadale gone? Somewhere into the country. Where had Mr. Midwinter
gone? Nobody knew.

Mr. Bashwood looked at his son in speechless and helpless dismay.

"Stuff and nonsense!" said Bashwood the younger, pushing his father
back roughly into the cab. "He's safe enough. We shall find him at Miss
Gwilt's."

The old man took his son's hand and kissed it. "Thank you, my dear," he
said, gratefully. "Thank you for comforting me."

The cab was driven next to the second lodging which Miss Gwilt had
occupied, in the neighborhood of Tottenham Court Road.

"Stop here," said the spy, getting out, and shutting his father into the
cab. "I mean to manage this part of the business myself."

He knocked at the house door. "I have got a note for Miss Gwilt," he
said, walking into the passage, the moment the door was opened.

"She's gone," answered the servant. "She went away last night."

Bashwood the younger wasted no more words with the servant. He insisted
on seeing the mistress. The mistress confirmed the announcement of Miss
Gwilt's departure on the previous evening. Where had she gone to? The
woman couldn't say. How had she left? On foot. At what hour? Between
nine and ten. What had she done with her luggage? She had no luggage.
Had a gentleman been to see her on the previous day? Not a soul, gentle
or simple, had come to the house to see Miss Gwilt.

The father's face, pale and wild, was looking out of the cab window as
the son descended the house steps. "Isn't she there, Jemmy?" he asked,
faintly--"isn't she there?"

"Hold your tongue," cried the spy, with the native coarseness of
his nature rising to the surface at last. "I'm not at the end of my
inquiries yet."

He crossed the road, and entered a coffee-shop situated exactly opposite
the house he had just left.

In the box nearest the window two men were sitting talking together
anxiously.

"Which of you was on duty yesterday evening, between nine and ten
o'clock?" asked Bashwood the younger, suddenly joining them, and putting
his question in a quick, peremptory whisper.

"I was, sir," said one of the men, unwillingly.

"Did you lose sight of the house?--Yes! I see you did."

"Only for a minute, sir. An infernal blackguard of a soldier came in--"

"That will do," said Bashwood the younger. "I know what the soldier did,
and who sent him to do it. She has given us the sli