daylight at the foot of the cellar-steps, and before he cheerfully sprang
up them, he blew out his candle and the superstition together.



EXIT WILDING


On the morning of the next day, Wilding went out alone, after leaving a
message with his clerk. "If Mr. Vendale should ask for me," he said, "or
if Mr. Bintrey should call, tell them I am gone to the Foundling." All
that his partner had said to him, all that his lawyer, following on the
same side, could urge, had left him persisting unshaken in his own point
of view. To find the lost man, whose place he had usurped, was now the
paramount interest of his life, and to inquire at the Foundling was
plainly to take the first step in the direction of discovery. To the
Foundling, accordingly, the wine-merchant now went.

The once familiar aspect of the building was altered to him, as the look
of the portrait over the chimney-piece was altered to him. His one
dearest association with the place which had sheltered his childhood had
been broken away from it for ever. A strange reluctance possessed him,
when he stated his business at the door. His heart ached as he sat alone
in the waiting-room while the Treasurer of the institution was being sent
for to see him. When the interview began, it was only by a painful
effort that he could compose himself sufficiently to mention the nature
of his errand.

The Treasurer listened with a face which promised all needful attention,
and promised nothing more.