At the end of the third day she revealed to me the name of the street in which Cousin Geoffrey lived, but a whole week passed before I had sufficient particulars to act upon. These were all I wanted. I would do the rest myself. On a certain bright morning early in October, the beginning of a lovely day, I kissed my mother, and accompanied my father and brothers to town. They were under the impression that I wanted to buy a new winter hat. They thought me extravagant to come so far for the purpose; they expressed disapproval by their looks, if not by their words. They were all three of them men who thought it waste of breath to argue with a woman. I offered no explanations. They read their papers and took no notice of me. When we got to Paddington, George, my youngest brother, offered to put me in an omnibus which would, he said, set me down at Whiteley's door. "I am not going to Whiteley's," I said. George stared. "It is quite the cheapest place for what you want," he replied. "But as you are so absolutely demoralised, here is another omnibus which will take you to Regent Circus." I got into this omnibus, bade George good-bye, and, as I drove away, felt that I had now really my fate in my own hands. I had never been in London alone before, but I was glad to feel that my heart beat quite evenly, and that I was in no way unduly excited. "It is quite plain to my mind, Rosamund Lindley," I said, addressing myself, "that you were meant to be a man. You have the nerve, the calm which is generally reserved for the male sex. Here you are in great London, and your pulse doesn't even flutter. Keep up your courage, Rosamund, and you will build the fortunes of your family." We reached the Circus; the omnibus conductor gave me some directions, and I walked up Oxford Street, stepping lightly, as the young and hopeful should. I did not know my way beyond a certain point, but policemen directed me, and presently I found myself in an old square, and standing on the steps of a house whose windows were grimy with dust, and the old knocker of the ponderous hall-door rusty from want of use. "My mother must be mistaken--Cousin Geoffrey must have moved from this house," I said to myself. Nevertheless, I raised the knocker, and made it sound sharply. In the course of a minute footsteps were heard in the tiled hall within. Some chains were withdrawn from the door, and a dreary-looking old man put his head out. "Is Mr Rutherford at home?" The old man opened the door an inch wider. "Eh? What? I'm a trifle deaf," he said. I repeated my question more distinctly. "Is Mr Rutherford within?" "And what may you want with him?" "My name is Rosamund Lindley. I am his relative. I want to see him."