To all appearances he was perfectly sane and in his right mind; but there was only one dominant idea there, and to fulfil this he was hurrying on. Still there was a certain amount of strange caution developed in his acts. He seemed to know that there was something wrong with him, and that he must be cautious how he spoke to people; and to this end he carefully avoided everyone who appeared to take the slightest notice of him, till he reached Westbourne Road. There he rang the bell, and the door was answered by his domestic.
The servant looked at him strangely, but said nothing, and he hurried up to his room to try and remove any traces that might strike a stranger of his having been lately ill. His mind was clear enough for that, and as he hastily bathed his face, the cold water refreshed him and he felt more himself.
He was terribly confused, though, at times, and had to ask himself why he was there.
That acted as a touchstone—Gertrude—he had come to seek his wife; he had escaped so that he might find her, for the doctor would not let him go. He told him—yes, he told him his wife was well, and he should see her soon; but it was a lie to quiet him. That devil had got her—his other self. Of course—the servant and the cabman told him so; but he must be quiet, or they would stop him. Perhaps the doctor had sent after him now.
He shuddered and gazed about him for a moment as if his mind were going beyond his control. Then, mastering himself once more, he took up his hat, opened the door, and passed out into the road.
Volume Three—Chapter Thirteen.
Lord Henry Receives a Telegram.
“I shall be waiting for you this evening at the Channel Hotel. It is an easy walk from the square. Ask to be shown to Number 99. If you are not there by ten o’clock, good-bye! There will be the report of a pistol heard. Without you I can bear my life no longer.”