Boots could not say there was.
Then Bassett made up his mind that Angelo was at another hotel, or perhaps in lodgings, out of prudence.
“Lady Bassett here still?” said he.
Boots was not very sure; would inquire at the bar. Did inquire, and brought him word Lady Bassett had left for London yesterday morning.
Bassett ground his teeth with vexation.
No train to London for an hour and a half. He took a stroll through the town to fill up the time.
How often, when a man abandons or remits his search for a time, Fate sends in his way the very thing he is after, but has given up hunting just then! As he walked along the north side of a certain street, what should he see but the truly beautiful and remarkable eyes and eyebrows of Mr. Angelo, shining from afar.
That gentleman was standing, in a reverie, on the steps of a small hotel.
Bassett drew back at first, not to be seen. Looking round he saw he was at the door of a respectable house that let apartments. He hurried in, examined the drawing-room floor, took it for a week, paid in advance, and sent to the Royal for his bag.
He installed himself near the window, to await one of two things, and act accordingly. If Angelo left the place he should go by the same train, and so catch the parties together; if the lady doubled back to Bath, or had only pretended to leave it, he should soon know that, by diligent watch and careful following.