ame to her, not even when he saw her having
tea at the Rainbow.

CHAPTER IV

WHERE FORSYTES FEAR TO TREAD

Quivering from the defeat of his hopes, with the green morocco case still
flat against his heart, Soames revolved thoughts bitter as death. A
spider's web! Walking fast, and noting nothing in the moonlight, he
brooded over the scene he had been through, over the memory of her figure
rigid in his grasp. And the more he brooded, the more certain he became
that she had a lover--her words, 'I would sooner die!' were ridiculous if
she had not. Even if she had never loved him, she had made no fuss until
Bosinney came on the scene. No; she was in love again, or she would not
have made that melodramatic answer to his proposal, which in all the
circumstances was reasonable! Very well! That simplified matters.

'I'll take steps to know where I am,' he thought; 'I'll go to Polteed's
the first thing tomorrow morning.'

But even in forming that resolution he knew he would have trouble with
himself. He had employed Polteed's agency several times in the routine
of his profession, even quite lately over Dartie's case, but he had never
thought it possible to employ them to watch his own wife.

It was too insulting to himself!

He slept over that project and his wounded pride--or rather, kept vigil.
Only while shaving did he suddenly remember that she called herself by
her maiden name of Heron. Polteed would not know, at first at all
events, whose wife she was, would not look at him obsequiously and leer
behind his back. She would just be the wife of one of his clients. And
that would be true--for was he not his own solicitor?

He was literally afraid not to put his design into execution at the first
possible moment, lest, after all, he might fail himself. And making
Warmson bring him an early cup of coffee; he stole out of the house
before the hour of breakfast. He walked rapidly to one of those small
West End streets where Polteed's and other firms ministered to the
virtues of the wealthier classes. Hitherto he had always had Polteed to
see him in the Poultry; but he well knew their address, and reached it at
the opening hour. In the outer office, a room furnished so cosily that
it might have been a money-lender's, he was attended by a lady who might
have been a schoolmistress.

"I wish to see Mr. Claud Polteed. He knows me--never mind my name."

To keep everybody from knowing that he, Soames Forsy