"Why should I waste time and energy on a futile object? It is like a horse turning a mill to grind wind! Violet Mildmay will marry Lord Fitz, the intellectual and the talented! She has made up her mind to marry a coronet," he murmured, bitterly, "and she would not marry Leicester Dodson, the tallow-melter's son, if he remained hanging at her apron strings until doomsday. As for Captain Howard Murpoint, he may be an honest man and he may not. I was not born to solve the problem or to bring him to justice. Let the world wag on its way; as for me, I will arise, shake off this infatuation, for it is nothing better, and seek fresh fields and pastures new. I shall have something to do in Africa, and I shall forget her."
He took from the drawers a quantity of necessary articles of clothing and packed them in the portmanteau. When it was filled he locked it and attached a label addressed, "To be taken in the yacht to the Isle of Man, where the skipper will put in until I come."
"I'll go overland," he muttered, "to cut the journey short, and they shall pick me up there."
Then he carried the portmanteau into his dressing-room and placed it where his valet could see it.
The man was used to acting on such curt and sudden instructions, and would convey the portmanteau, with its terse command, to the skipper of the yacht the first thing in the morning.
Having made his arrangements so far, Leicester slowly undressed and got to bed.
"I must wake early," he thought. "Bertie is going to-morrow, and must know of my intended flight or he would feel hurt."
But the morning came and he was sound asleep when Bertie knocked at the door.
"I'm going, old fellow," he called through the keyhole. "Don't get out of bed. Good-by; I shall be back in a couple of days."
"Good-by," said Leicester, drowsily, half asleep and half awake, and Bertie was gone.