"MY DEAR SIR,
"Do not be more uneasy than necessary about George. I think I have a clue by which his address may be ascertained. If so, I will report progress to you to-night; but I leave this note for you, in order to allay the distress you will feel in learning he is not here. Rest assured of my earnest desire to serve my dear friend, and to relieve him if possible. My time and services you may command in this cause. In haste,
"Yours very faithfully,
"CHARLES HARDY."
Hardy had a clue, it is true; but it was a very faint one. He had noticed, upon the table of Mr. Compton's room, a "Bradshaw's Railway Guide;" and as he had not seen one there previously, he imagined it must have been brought in by George, with his carpet-bag and other things, and there left. One page of the book was turned down; Hardy had eagerly opened it, and found it referred to the departures from the Great Western Station.
"I'll go on at once to that station," he thought. "He told me he might be leaving England; perhaps he has gone to Liverpool, Plymouth, or Cork, or some shipping place that can be reached by this line. At all events, I have no other chance but this."
With all speed Charles drove off to Paddington. Diligently he conned over the intricate mysteries of "Bradshaw" as he journeyed along, endeavouring to ascertain when trains would be leaving for any of the places to which he had imagined his friend might be going. It is hardly necessary to say he could not find what he wanted; but his anxiety and suspense were relieved by the search.
Before alighting at the station, Hardy carefully glanced all around to ascertain that George was not in sight; for it was not his intention to speak to him or endeavour to turn him from his purpose, knowing that, in his present excited state he would stand no chance whatever of frustrating his friend's plans, but would rather be adopting the most certain means of destroying his own. Hardy's present object was only to try and find out to what part George would travel, and then communicate with Mr. Brunton and get his advice how to proceed.
Cautiously he walked along the platform, looking into every waiting-room, and making inquiries of the porters it they had seen any one answering to the description he gave of George. This course proving futile, he went to the ticket-office, and consulted a time-table, to find whether any train had recently left for any of the places which, he felt convinced, were the most probable for George to choose. An hour or two had elapsed since the last train left, and George had not had more than twenty minutes' start ahead of him. He took down in his pocket-book the time for the departure of the next train; and then choosing a secluded spot in the office, where he would be out of observation, and yet able to see all who came up for tickets, he waited patiently until the slow, dawdling hand of the clock neared the hour.
Hardy felt the chances were fifty to one that while he was waiting there George might be at some other station, leaving London without a trace to his whereabouts; he thought whether, after all, George might not have purposely, instead of accidentally, left the "Bradshaw" with that particular page turned down, in order that, should he be sought, a wrong scent might be given; and even if he intended to travel by this line and to one of these particular places, might he not choose nighttime as the most desirable for his object? But Hardy had purpose in him; he would not throw away the strongest clue he had, although that was faint, and he resolved to stay there until midnight, it need be, rather than abandon his design,
His patience was not put to such a test as this. While he was standing, with palpitating heart, behind that door in the booking office, George was in the porters' room, not a hundred yards off, waiting with deeper anxiety for the clock to point to the hour when the train should start. Presently, the first bell rang. A number of people, with bags and packages in hand, came crowding up to the ticket office, but George was not there. Hardy could scarcely refrain from rushing out to look around. What if he should get into a train without a ticket, or send a guard to procure one for him? A hundred doubts and fears were pressing upon him, and—the second bell rang. Two or three minutes more, and the train would be off. At the moment he was consulting his pocket-book to see how long a time must elapse before the next train would leave, he started with joyful surprise to see George walk hurriedly up to the office and obtain a ticket. As hurriedly he disappeared. "Now is my chance," thought Hardy.
"Where did that young man take his ticket for?" he asked the clerk, as soon as he had elbowed his way past the few remaining persons who were before the window.
"Which one?" said he; "two or three young men have just taken tickets."