anonymous letter lay before him, side by side with his wife's letter.
On a sudden, he lifted his gray head, and clenched his fist, and struck
the venomous written warning as if it had been a living thing that
could feel. "Whoever you are," he said, "I'll take your advice."

He never even made the attempt to go to bed that night. His pipe helped
him through the comfortless and dreary hours. Once or twice he thought
of his daughter. Why had her mother been so anxious about her? Why had
her mother taken her to Ramsgate? Perhaps, as a blind--ah, yes, perhaps
as a blind! More for the sake of something to do than for any other
reason, he packed a handbag with a few necessaries. As soon as the
servant was stirring, he ordered her to make him a cup of strong
coffee. After that, it was time to show himself as usual, on the
opening of the shop. To his astonishment, he found his clerk taking
down the shutters, in place of the porter.

"What does this mean?" he asked. "Where is Farnaby?"

The clerk looked at his master, and paused aghast with a shutter in his
hands.

"Good Lord! what has come to you?" he cried. "Are you ill?"

Old Ronald angrily repeated his question: "Where is Farnaby?"

"I don't know," was the answer.

"You don't know? Have you been up to his bedroom?"

"Yes."