"I'll go to London," he said. "I'll go and see things, and try and get
thoughts of her out of my mind." So he went, and found London even more
uninteresting than Hurst Dormer.

He had promised that he would never molest her, never annoy her with
his visits or his presence, and he meant religiously to keep his word,
and yet--if he could just see her! She need not know! If he could from a
distance feast his eyes on her for one moment, on a sight of her, what
harm would he do her or anyone?

Hugh Alston did not recognise himself in this restless dissatisfied,
unhappy man, who took to loitering and wandering about the streets,
haunting certain places and keeping a sharp lookout for someone who
might or might not come.

So the days passed. He had gladdened his eyes three times with a view of
old General Bartholomew. He had seen that ancient man leaning on his
stick, taking a constitutional around the square.

And that was all! He passed the house and watched, yet saw no sign of
her. He came at night-time, when tell-tale shadows might be thrown on
the blinds, but saw nothing, only the shadow of the General or of his
secretary, never one that might have been hers.

And then he slowly came to the conclusion that Joan Meredyth could no
longer be there. It had taken him nearly a week to come to that
decision.

That Joan had left General Bartholomew's house he was certain, but where
was she? He had no right to enquire, no right to hunt her down. If he