wd would let him, along the line
of carriages, and, discovering no familiar face on that first
investigation, joined the passengers for a second search among them in
the custom-house waiting-room next.

He had looked round the room, and had satisfied himself that the persons
occupying it were all strangers, when he heard a voice behind him,
exclaiming: "Can that be Mr. Bashwood!" He turned in eager expectation,
and found himself face to face with the last man under heaven whom he
had expected to see.

The man was MIDWINTER.

II. IN THE HOUSE.

Noticing Mr. Bashwood's confusion (after a moment's glance at the change
in his personal appearance), Midwinter spoke first.

"I see I have surprised you," he said. "You are looking, I suppose, for
somebody else? Have you heard from Allan? Is he on his way home again
already?"

The inquiry about Allan, though it would naturally have suggested
itself to any one in Midwinter's position at that moment, added to Mr.
Bashwood's confusion. Not knowing how else to extricate himself from
the critical position in which he was placed, he took refuge in simple
denial.

"I know nothing about Mr. Armadale--oh dear, no, sir, I know nothing
about Mr. Armadale," he answered, with needless eagerness and hurry.
"Welcome back to England, sir," he went on, changing the subject in his
nervously talkative manner. "I didn't know you had been abroad. It's so
long since we have had the pleasure--since I have had the pleasure. Have
you enjoyed yourself, sir, in foreign parts? Such different manners from
ours--yes, yes, yes--such different manners from ours! Do you make a
long stay in England, now you have come back?"

"I hardly know," said Midwinter. "I have been obliged to alter my plans,
and to come to England unexpectedly." He hesitated a little; his manner
changed, and he added, in lower tones: "A serious anxiety has brought
me back. I can't say what my plans will be until that anxiety is set at
rest."

The light of a lamp fell on his face while he spoke, and Mr. Bashwood
observed, for the first time, that he looked sadly worn and changed.

"I'm sorry, sir--I'm sure I'm very sorry. If I could be of any use--"
suggested Mr. Bashwood, speaking under the influence in some degree of
his nervous politeness, and in some degree of his remembrance of what
Midwinter had done for him at Thorpe Ambrose in the by-gone time.

Midwinter thanked him and turned away sadly. "I am afraid you can be