Then, his mind being once more directed towards concealment of purpose, he sent a telegram to his housekeeper telling her that he was called away to London on business.

It was only when he was far on his journey that he gave thought to ways and means, and took stock of his possessions.

Before he took out his purse and pocket-book he made up his mind that he would be content with what it was, no matter how little.

He had left Normanstand and all belonging to it for ever, and was off to hide himself in whatever part of the world would afford him the best opportunity.

Life was over! There was nothing to look forward to; nothing to look back at! The present was a living pain whose lightest element was despair.