ng, his life; and the country--calm
and beautiful--refused it. And that perhaps is rather often the
position, for your sedentary man, at all events; your modern, who
cannot dig and is ashamed to beg--a numerous and ever increasing body.

Big Ben struck the hour of eight as we trundled past into Whitehall on
the top of an omnibus. I thought of Fanny with some self-reproach. She
would have reached the lodgings by about five, and our evening meal
hour was seven. I hoped she had not waited without her meal. I left
Heron on the 'bus, for he had farther than I to go, and hurried along
to No. 46 Kent Street--the dingy house in which we had been living now
for a month or more.

Fanny was not there, and, to my surprise, the landlady told me she had
not been in all day, save for five minutes in the early afternoon,
after which she went out carrying a parcel. I went to my bedroom for
an overcoat, as the night was chilly. I possessed two of these
garments at the time--one rather heavy and warm, the other a light
coat. Both were missing from their accustomed pegs.

'Tcha! Now what does this mean?' I growled to myself; knowing quite
well what it meant. 'And I take holidays in the country! I might have
known better.'

And with that--all the brightness of the day forgotten now--I hurried
out, bound for Howard Street and Mrs. Pelly's house.

But Mrs. Pelly had no idea as to her daughter's whereabouts. It seemed
Fanny had left her before three o'clock, intending to go home.

Then began a search of the kind which had become only too familiar
with me of late. I suppose I must have entered upon scores of such
dismal quests since my marriage. First, I visited some twenty or
thirty different 'gin-mills.' (In one of them I stayed a few minutes
to eat a piece of bread and cheese.) Then I went to two police
stations, at the two opposite ends of that locality. Finally, I
tramped back to Kent Street, thinking to find Fanny there, and
picturing in advance the condition in which I should find her. The
most I ventured to hope was that she had been able to reach her room
without assistance. But she had not been there at all.

I went out again into the street, somewhat at a loss. It was now past
ten o'clock. After some hesitation I caught a passing omnibus and
journeyed back towards Howard Street, near which stood a third police
station, which I had not before visited.

'Wait there a minute, will you?' said the officer to whom my inquiry
here