offence--did fail repeatedly."

"Success," muttered Renouard, pulling-to the office door after him
with considerable energy. And the letters of the word PRIVATE like
a row of white eyes seemed to stare after his back sinking down the
staircase of that temple of publicity.

Renouard had no doubt that all the means of publicity would be put
at the service of love and used for the discovery of the loved man.
He did not wish him dead. He did not wish him any harm. We are
all equipped with a fund of humanity which is not exhausted without
many and repeated provocations--and this man had done him no evil.
But before Renouard had left old Dunster's house, at the conclusion
of the call he made there that very afternoon, he had discovered in
himself the desire that the search might last long. He never
really flattered himself that it might fail. It seemed to him that
there was no other course in this world for himself, for all
mankind, but resignation. And he could not help thinking that
Professor Moorsom had arrived at the same conclusion too.

Professor Moorsom, slight frame of middle height, a thoughtful keen
head under the thick wavy hair, veiled dark eyes under straight
eyebrows, and with an inward gaze which when disengaged and
arriving at one seemed to issue from an obscure dream of books,
from the limbo of meditation, showed himself extremely gracious to
him. Renouard guessed in him a man whom an incurable habit of
investigation and analysis had made gentle and indulgent; inapt for
action, and more sensitive to the thoughts than to the events of
existence. Withal not crushed, sub-ironic without a trace of
acidity, and with a simple manner which put people at ease quickly.