ng
out a sovereign he tried to make the woman comprehend that she could earn
it, by telling him where they had gone. He got her finally to write the
words out in his pocket-book, gave her the sovereign, and hurried to the
Goldene Alp, where there was a waiter who spoke English. The translation
given him was this:

"At three o'clock they start in a carriage on the road to Linz--they have
bad horses--the Herr also rides a white horse."

Swithin at once hailed a carriage and started at full gallop on the road
to Linz. Outside the Mirabell Garden he caught sight of Kasteliz and
grinned at him. 'I've sold him anyway,' he thought; 'for all their talk,
they're no good, these foreigners!'

His spirits rose, but soon fell again. What chance had he of catching
them? They had three hours' start! Still, the roads were heavy from the
rain of the last two nights--they had luggage and bad horses; his own
were good, his driver bribed--he might overtake them by ten o'clock! But
did he want to? What a fool he had been not to bring his luggage; he
would then have had a respectable position. What a brute he would look
without a change of shirt, or anything to shave with! He saw himself
with horror, all bristly, and in soiled linen. People would think him
mad. 'I've given myself away,' flashed across him, 'what the devil can I
say to them?' and he stared sullenly at the driver's back. He read
Rozsi's letter again; it had a scent of her. And in the growing
darkness, jolted by the swinging of the carriage, he suffered tortures
from his prudence, tortures from his passion.

It grew colder and dark. He turned the collar of his coat up to his
ears. He had visions of Piccadilly. This wild-goose chase appeared
suddenly a dangerous, unfathomable business. Lights, fellowship,
security! 'Never again!' he brooded; 'why won't they let me alone?' But
it was not clear whether by 'they' he meant the conventions, the
Boleskeys, his passions, or those haunting memories of Rozsi. If he had
only had a bag with him! What was he going to say? What was he going to
get by this? He received no answer to these questions. The darkness
itself was less obscure than his sensations. From time to time he took
out his watch. At each village the driver made inquiries. It was past
ten when he stopped the carriage with a jerk. The stars were bright as
steel, and by the side of the road a reedy lake showed in the moonlight.
Swithin shivered. A m