which the South Western Railway Company so considerately provides for
amorous Wimbledonians, I hurried homeward, wondering what the morrow
would bring forth.



V

WIMBLEDON--OATLANDS

It will be obvious to all readers of this narrative that from the moment
M. Zola left Paris, and throughout his sojourn in London and its
immediate neighbourhood, there was little if any skill shown in the
matter of keeping his movements secret. In point of fact, blunder upon
blunder was committed. A first mistake was made in going to an hotel like
the Grosvenor; a second in openly promenading some of the most frequented
of the London streets; and a third in declining to make the slightest
alteration with regard to personal appearance. Again, although press of
circumstances rendered departure for Wimbledon a necessity, as it was
imperative to get M. Zola out of London at once, this change of quarters
was in the end scarcely conducive to secrecy. A good many Wimbledonians
were aware of my connection with M. Zola, and even if he were not
personally recognised by them, the circumstance of a French gentleman of
striking appearance being seen in my company was fated to arouse
suspicion. My home is but a mile or so from the centre of Wimbledon, and
M. Zola's proposal to make that locality his place of sojourn seemed to
me such a dangerous course that when I returned to Wareham's house on the
morning of Friday, July 22, I was determined to oppose it, in the
master's own interests, as vigorously as might be possible.