Sir Harold looked at his daughter’s lover with haggard eyes.
“I am worn out with excitement and fatigue,” said the baronet, in a low, weary voice. “I will go back to the hotel and lie down. I must not become worn out. Heaven knows I shall need all my strength.”
“And you, Atkins?” said Lord Towyn.
“I shall try to catch a nap also,” said the solicitor gloomily. “I’m tired too. I can’t stand it to go banging back to Kent by the first south-bound train.”
“And you, Ryan?” asked the earl.
“I don’t know,” said the detective. “I want to think over what has happened, and see if I can get any new ideas.”
He raised his hat, and walked away.
“I’ll take a stroll about the town, Sir Harold,” said the earl. “I feel strangely restless, and not at all sleepy. I slept very well last night on the train—as well as I have slept since Neva disappeared. I’ll meet you and Atkins in our sitting-room at the Railway Hotel by four o’clock.”
Sir Harold and Atkins entered the cab, and were driven to their hotel. The young earl watched the cab until it disappeared from sight, and then he walked down the street, idly taking his way toward the river.
The wind blew strong and fiercely—a very winter wind, as cold and keen as if it blew directly from the North pole, and having suggestions of icebergs in it. The young earl shivered, and drew up his coat collar.