absolutely certain that, by not making it up, he would suffer
loss.

In life, however, there were many occasions when the business of making
up his mind did not even rest with himself, and this was one of them.

What could he do? Talk it over with Soames? That would only make matters
worse. And, after all, there was nothing in it, he felt sure.

It was all that house. He had mistrusted the idea from the first. What
did Soames want to go into the country for? And, if he must go spending
a lot of money building himself a house, why not have a first-rate man,
instead of this young Bosinney, whom nobody knew anything about? He had
told them how it would be. And he had heard that the house was costing
Soames a pretty penny beyond what he had reckoned on spending.

This fact, more than any other, brought home to James the real danger
of the situation. It was always like this with these 'artistic' chaps;
a sensible man should have nothing to say to them. He had warned Irene,
too. And see what had come of it!

And it suddenly sprang into James's mind that he ought to go and see for
himself. In the midst of that fog of uneasiness in which his mind was
enveloped the notion that he could go and look at the house afforded him
inexplicable satisfaction. It may have been simply the decision to
do something--more possibly the fact that he was going to look at a
house--that gave him relief. He felt that in staring at an edifice
of bricks and mortar, of wood and stone, built by the suspected man
himself, he would be looking into the heart of that rumour about Irene.

Without saying a word, therefore, to anyone, he took a hansom to the
station and proceeded by train to Robin Hill; thence--there being no
'flies,' in accordance with the custom of the neighbourhood--he found
himself obliged to walk.

He started slowly up the hill, his angular knees and high shoulders bent
complainingly, his eyes fixed on his feet, yet, neat for all that,
in his high hat and his frock-coat, on which was the speckless gloss
imparted by perfect superintendence. Emily saw to that; that is, she did
not, of course, see to it--people of good position not seeing to each
other's buttons, and Emily was of good position--but she saw that the
butler saw to it.

He had to ask his way three times; on each occasion he repeated the
directions given him, got the man to repeat them, then repeated them a
second time, for he was naturally of a talkative disposition, a