this. Had not Sibyl fifty legitimate ways of
spending a night from home? Yet there was the fact that she had never
before done so unexpectedly. Never before----?

He looked at his watch; half-past six. He rang the bell again.

'Has any one called since Mrs. Carnaby left home?'

'Yes, sir; there have been three calls. Mrs. Rolfe----'

'Mrs. Rolfe?'

'Yes, sir. She seemed very disappointed. I told her Mrs. Carnaby would
not be back tonight.'

'And the others?'

Two persons of no account. Hugh dismissed them, and the servant, with a
wave of the hand.

He felt a faintness such as accompanies extreme hunger, but had no
inclination for food. The whisky bottle was a natural resource; a
tumbler of right Scotch restored his circulation, and in a few minutes
gave him a raging appetite. He could not eat here; but eat he must, and
that quickly. Seizing his hat, he ran down the stairs, hailed a hansom,
and drove to the nearest restaurant he could think of.

After eating without knowledge of the viands, and drinking a bottle of
claret in like unconsciousness, he smoked for half an hour, his eyes
vacantly set, his limbs lax and heavy, as though in the torpor of
difficult digestion. When the cigar was finished, he roused himself,
looked at the time, and asked for a railway guide. There was a train to
Wimbledon at ten minutes past eight; he might possibly catch it.
Starting into sudden activity, he hastily left the restaurant, and
reached Waterloo Station with not a moment to spare.

At Wimbledon he took a cab, and was driven up the hill. Under a clouded
sky, dusk had already changed to darkness; the evening was warm and
still. Impatient with what he thought the slow progress of the vehicle,
Hugh sat with his body bent forward, straining as did the horse, on
which his eyes were fixed, and perspiring in the imaginary effort. The
address he had given was Mrs. Fenimore's; but when he drew near he
signalled to the driver: 'Stop at the gate. Don't drive up.'

From the entrance to Mrs. Fenimore's round to the by-road which was the
direct approach to Redgrave's bungalow would be a walk of some ten
minutes. Hugh had his reasons for not taking this direction. Having
dismissed his cab, he entered by the lodge-gate, and walked up the
drive, moving quickly, and with a lighter step than was natural to him.
When he came within view of the house, he turned aside, and made his
way over the grass, in the deep shadow of leafy lime-trees, un