At last I turned into the street I remembered so well, and approached the office of my old friend. I ascended the steps and pushed open the glass door. Somewhat to my surprise a strange clerk accosted me. When I inquired for Mr. Winzor, the surprised look upon the youth's face told me that something unusual had happened.
"Don't you know that he is dead?" he inquired.
"Dead?" I cried, in genuine consternation. "Good heavens! you don't mean that!"
"He died more than six weeks ago," the young man replied. "He had some papers to sign in that room, and when his chief clerk went in to get them he found the old gentleman stone dead."
I was more distressed than I could say at this news. The little lawyer had been a kindly friend to me, and also to my mother.
Thanking the clerk for his information I left the office and made my way to Waterloo. There I took the train to Salisbury, and, on arrival at the cathedral city, set out for Falstead.
At this last stage of my story I will not weary you with a long description of my home coming. Let it suffice that I at last reached the village and found myself approaching the house of my childhood. The tiny gate had scarcely closed behind me when the front-door opened and my mother hastened to greet me.
When we reached her little drawing-room I questioned her concerning Molly.
"I expect her every moment," said my mother.
As she spoke the click of the gate caused me to go to the window with all speed.