He frowned slightly, saying:
“Come, Theresa, we must hurry if we are to catch the train.”
He bowed distantly to Sir Harold, and, having placed the harmonium in the carriage, he started away, dragging the instrument after him.
Theresa looked back once, and the baronet found himself gazing at her, he knew not why.
“Let me do what little good I can with my useless life,” he thought. “Even such a chance as this may never occur again.”
He followed the musicians, and drew from his pocket a handful of coins, but the sharp eyes of John Hamilton had observed the movement.
“You will excuse me, Sir Harold Annesley,” he said with dignity. “My child sings for money, and I employ my poor powers to assist her, when we are driven to do so by dire necessity, but we do not beg. Pray keep your money.”
The girl blushed painfully, and the young baronet continued on his way, a bitter laugh upon his lips. Even that small pleasure was denied him.
The nearest railway station was called Crayford, and when he asked for a ticket to London the booking clerk was startled by his hoarse tones and the strange, gray pallor of his face.
He had a quarter of an hour to wait, and paced the platform with quick, restless strides. He dreaded lest some friend should follow him. He felt that any interference now would madden him.