Robert was a busy man again, to a certain extent; though now he worked for others, in a subordinate position, which seemed to hurt his pride but little, if at all. "I can't live in idleness on my mother, Charley," he said; "and--and if I never see her face again"--that sentence in her letter haunted him--"I should like to leave her something."
Charles Yeldham encouraged Robert in these resolves, and had the satisfaction of seeing him become more tranquil and cheerful, when with him. He had always the gratification of knowing that to others he never afforded an indication of the suffering of his mind.
"You are clear, then, Charley," said Gordon Frere on one occasion, when he had "run up to town" from Middlemeads--they were living there now, and it was late in the autumn--"you are clear, then, that there is nothing, positively nothing, to be done? She is certainly not within the limits of the United Kingdom; for I am confident we have fished out every mortal creature she ever knew, intimately or slightly, and no one has heard of her directly or indirectly."
"I am perfectly clear on that point, Gordon. The case stands thus: we have exhausted all private sources of information known to us, and must now wait until some others discover themselves. Mrs. Stanbourne is keenly interested in our success, and she has access to such foreign information as we could not command. The only other likely clue is that secured to us, in case of its usefulness, by Miss Burton. I have always maintained that this was not a case for detective work; because, in the first place, it would not avail; and in the second, Katharine never would pardon the employment of such means. The fatal loss of time at first--the only time in which detective work is ever good for any thing--disposes of that resource, if no other objection existed. Robert, Lady Henmarsh, and myself having concluded, most naturally, that she had gone to Mrs. Stanbourne, the trail was effectually lost before we knew that we were mistaken. She had more than time to hide herself, long before it ever occurred to us that she intended concealment; for you must remember, Gordon, the desperate defiance of her letter to Robert by no means necessarily implied that."
"You are sure she had no other friends abroad but Mrs. Stanbourne and Miss Burton--no friends among foreigners, I mean?"
"Quite certain. Lady Henmarsh knows; and indeed Katharine had told Robert herself that she had never been abroad for more than a fortnight, or farther than Paris, till their marriage, and she knew no foreigners."
"Where did they go to after the marriage?" asked Gordon.
"To Switzerland. But they returned very soon, and did very little tourist business, I fancy; for Katharine had a severe illness at Martigny, which upset all their plans. No, no; there's not a chance in that direction. Robert and I have not left an incident undiscussed, not a speculation untried."
And they believed so. But one individual connected with their stay at Martigny had entirely escaped Robert's memory and mention. Had he remembered Dr. Hudson, however, it would never have occurred to him that in that direction any help could lie. He knew nothing of the profession and the promise with which the doctor and his beautiful patient had parted.
So, like the children in their games of hide and-seek, Gordon had unconsciously strayed near to the concealed treasure of knowledge when he asked his careless question, but had wandered away again--no hint given, no warning cry, "You burn! you burn!"