got in."

"No luggage?"

"None."

The young man set his teeth and moved towards the carriage. His hand
stole for a moment to his pocket, then he seemed to pick something up
from the dusty floor.

"Here's a card," he said to the guard, "on the seat where he was."

The man took it and spelt the name out.

"Mr. Douglas Guest," he said. "Well, we shall know who he was, at any
rate. It's lucky you found it, sir. Now we'll get on, if you please."

A tarpaulin-covered burden was carefully deposited in an empty carriage,
and the little troop of people melted away. She looked up from her book
as he entered.

"Well?"

"It was an accident, or a suicide," he said, gravely. "A man threw
himself from an empty carriage in front and was run over. It was a
horrible affair."

"Do they know who he was?" she asked.

"There was a card found near him," he answered. "Mr. Douglas Guest.
That was his name."

Was it his fancy, or did she look at him for a moment more intently
during the momentary silence which followed his speech? It must have
been his fancy. Yet her next words puzzled him.

"You have not told me yet" she said, "your own name. I should like to
know it."

He hesitated for a moment. His own name. A name to be kept--to live
and die under--the hall mark of his new identity. How poor his
imagination was. Never an inspiration, and she was watching him. There
was so much in a name, and he must find one swiftly, for Mr. Douglas
Guest was dead.

"My name is Jesson," he said--"Douglas Jesson."

CHAPTER V

HOW THE ADDRESS WAS LOST

And now the end of that journey, never altogether forgotten by either of
them, was close at hand. Tunnels became more frequent, the green fields
gave way to an interminable waste of houses, the gloom of the autumn
afternoon was deepened. The speed of the train decreased, the heart of
Douglas Jesson beat fast with anticipation. For now indeed he was near
the end of his journey, the beginning of his new life. What matter that
the outlook from where he sat was dreary enough. Beyond, there was a
glow in the sky; beyond was an undiscovered world. He was young, and he
came fresh to the fight. The woman who watched him wondered.

"Will you tell me," she said, "now that you are in London, what will you
do? You have money perhaps, or will you work?"

"Money," he laughed, gaily at first, but with a chill shiver immediately
afterwards. Yes, he had money. For the moment he had forgotten it.