“That I will, sir,” she cried eagerly; and she kept her word over and over again, but to Guest’s intense chagrin always too late.
“Just comes in quickly, sir, runs up to his rooms and gets his letters, and goes out the other way.”
This occurred till Guest grew damped, then angry, then damped again; but, in spite of his disheartened state, he manfully resumed his search, for whenever he was disposed to give it up as what he called a bad job, he was forced on by Edie with the greatest eagerness—“to save her life.”
There was a time when Guest thought of getting professional help, but a strange dread of something terrible being wrong kept him back from this, and he spent every spare hour in seeking for his friend in every resort, but all in vain. Still he heard of him again and again, and of his calling at the institution, where he had a fresh release from duty granted him for a month; and feeling that he was bound to run against his friend sooner or later, Guest relaxed his efforts, and the very next day caught sight of Stratton in a cab, followed it till it turned down one of the Strand culs-de-sac, saw him alight at a great house overlooking the river and pay the cabman; and then followed him in, and up a great winding stone staircase to a door on the upper floor.
“She lives there,” thought Guest with a feeling of rage in his breast, and, running lightly up the last few steps, he crept unobserved behind Stratton, and laid a hand upon his shoulder just as he was thrusting a latchkey into the lock.
Stratton gave a violent start, but did not turn round. He only uttered a low sigh.
“Very well,” he said. “I have been expecting you for weeks.”
“Stratton!” cried Guest reproachfully, and his friend turned slowly round so haggard and aged a countenance that Guest was startled.
“You?” said Stratton, with a curious, dazed look around, as if for someone else whom he had expected to see there.
“I thought—I thought—” He paused, and then after an interval: “Well, you have found me. What do you want?”