"Heavens!" said she, "do you think I do not understand my own
hotel?"

And she went by, clinging affectionately to her companion's arm.

This put Silas in mind of his billet.

"Ten minutes hence," thought he, "and I may be walking with as
beautiful a woman as that, and even better dressed - perhaps a real
lady, possibly a woman or title."

And then he remembered the spelling, and was a little downcast.

"But it may have been written by her maid," he imagined.

The clock was only a few minutes from the hour, and this immediate
proximity set his heart beating at a curious and rather
disagreeable speed. He reflected with relief that he was in no way
bound to put in an appearance. Virtue and cowardice were together,
and he made once more for the door, but this time of his own
accord, and battling against the stream of people which was now
moving in a contrary direction. Perhaps this prolonged resistance
wearied him, or perhaps he was in that frame of mind when merely to
continue in the same determination for a certain number of minutes
produces a reaction and a different purpose. Certainly, at least,
he wheeled about for a third time, and did not stop until he had
found a place of concealment within a few yards of the appointed
place.