It was a good opportunity to go on to Cornwall, and he took it.

His business completed, he caught the early train, and in due time arrived at Penzance.

With an obscure instinct for solitude he hastened through the town and struck out across the moors.
The afternoon was waning when he reached Flint House and pulled the old-fashioned bell-handle of the weatherbeaten door.

There was no reply, and a second ring passed disregarded.

That was disconcerting and unexpected.