He had not taken the slightest note of the direction in which the
carriage was driven that night, for he had sat listening to his excited
companion, half wondering at the way in which he was influenced by her
presence.

The carriage, he did remember, was driven very fast, but it must have
been at least a quarter of an hour before it was drawn up at the kerb
before the old-fashioned mansion.

Yes, he did note that old-fashioned mansion, in a wide street, too--it
must have been a wide street to have allowed for so great a distance
between the kerb and the two steps up from the pavement; and the house
stood back, too, some distance.

That was something, but a chill of despair came over him as he felt that
these features applied to thousands of houses.

Still, it was old-fashioned, and the hall was wide, just such a house as
he would find in Bloomsbury.

"Or Westminster," he muttered. "But the cabman was told to drive to
Chelsea. A blind to confuse me, on the chance that I did not notice
when I was brought there that night.

"Bloomsbury or Westminster," he said to himself; "and chance or instinct
may help me," he mused, as, feeble as was the clue, he felt that it was
something to act upon, something to give him work that might deaden the
wild excitement. He set off at once in the direction of the
old-fashioned, grim-looking streets half a mile east of where he had
stood thinking, ending by taking a passing cab, for he felt faint and
bathed in a cold perspiration, and being driven slowly through street
and square till long after daylight, and then home, sick at heart in the
despondent feeling which came over him.

"It's hopeless--impossible," he said to himself, as he wearily let
himself in with his latch-key, while the cabman drove slowly off,
saying--

"Not bad, as things go. Talk about seeing life, I think we kebbies do.
Why, that chap must be about cracked."

As Chester threw his overcoat on a chair in the hall, a slight rustling
on the stairs took his attention.

"Watched!" he said to himself, while turning into his consulting-room,
feeling convinced that either Laura or his aunt had been listening for
his return.

"They must think me mad," he said, and after a pause, "are they right?"

He was calmer now, and his mind running in this direction, he could not
help feeling there was a strange dash of insanity mingled with his
actions since the night when he was called out, and that this last act
of