f an hour. My papers were in the pockets of
the clothes I intended to wear, and a supply of money was left locked
in my handbag. The most important moment of my life was at hand, and,
as I walked down the crowded Strand into Fleet Street, I was conscious
of such a measure of exaltation as I had never known before that day.

And then, for the second time in my life, brute force intervened, and
made utter havoc of all my plans and prospects. Crossing Fleet Street,
close to Chancery Lane, the pole of an omnibus struck my shoulder and
flung me several yards along the road. The driver of a hansom cab
shouted aloud as he jerked his horse to its haunches to avoid running
over me. And in that moment, pawing wildly, the horse struck the back
of my head with one of his fore feet.

For the second time in my life I lay in a hospital, suffering from
concussion of the brain. Almost twelve hours passed before I first
regained consciousness, and the morning of the following day was well
advanced before I was able to inform the hospital authorities of my
identity. No papers, nothing but a handful of silver, had been found
in my pockets.

At eleven o'clock that morning there was solemnised at St. Margaret's
Church the marriage of Cynthia and Charles Barthrop.

'If you call, I will come.'

But I had not called. I had even left Cynthia to pace to and fro
through an afternoon in the park; at that most critical juncture in
both our lives I had failed her. In a brief letter, posted to an
address given me by her brother, I acquainted Cynthia with the facts
of my accident, and nothing more than the facts.

In ten days I was out of the hospital; and Cynthia, another man's
wife, was in Norway.

IV

I dare say no place would have looked very attractive to me when I
came out from that hospital; but London and my lodging in it did seem
past all bearing unattractive. The Dorking lodging had been definitely
relinquished, and in any case I had no wish now to see Dorking, Leith
Hill, or the common.

Knowing practically nothing of my native land outside its capital, I
packed a small bag at my lodging, and walked to the nearest large
railway station, which happened to be Paddington. Arrived there, I
spent some dull moments in staring at way-bills, and finally took a
ticket at a venture for Salisbury. There I found a quiet lodging, and
spent the evening in idly wandering about the cathedral close.

The next day found me tramping over short