The next morning, accordingly, Mr. Bingham started for New Street. Upon arriving at the shop, he was astonished at finding it closed, and a bill upon the shutter—“This house and shop to be let or sold, enquire of Mr. Thompson, House Agent, Brompton Row.” In spite of this notice, he rang at the bell. There was no answer; and a neighbour, seeing Mr. Bingham standing at the door, came out and volunteered the information that Stephen Walker was gone. “He went off yesterday at twelve o'clock, with his boxes, in a cab.” “Am I likely to be able to find out where he has gone to?” Mr. Bingham asked; “I owe him an account for newspapers.” “I can't say, sir; if anyone knows, it's Mrs. Holl. She's an old friend of his, and has been doing for him lately; she lives in Moor Street, No. 18.” Mr. Bingham went off to Moor Street. He knocked at the door. Mrs. Holl came to it. On seeing a gentleman, she curtseyed. “Do you want me, sir? I can't ask you to walk in, for I've a boy here down with fever.” “Thank you,” Mr. Bingham said; “I called this morning to pay my newsagent, Mr. Walker, a little account I owe him, and I find his place shut up. I was directed to you as the most likely person to tell me of his whereabouts.” “I know no more, sir, than a new-born child. I only hope he hasn't done anything with his-self. I saw him the day afore yesterday, when he came back after burying his daughter; and when I went yesterday morning he was out. When I went again in the afternoon, I found the bill up, and heard he had gone off with his things. I went to the house people, but they could tell me nothing about it. They said that Mr. Walker, who they knew before, from his having bought the house through them, had come to them, all of a sudden, at nine o'clock. He had told them to let the house at once, or to sell it if they got an offer, and pay the amount into a bank for him. He seemed, they said, a good deal flurried, and in a great hurry. They are to send a cart to-day for his furniture, and are to send it to a sale-room. They are to give notice to his tenants, in the upper part of the house, to leave. The news was all so sudden, it has put me quite in a fluster, like; but I don't think he can be going to do any harm to himself, else he wouldn't have taken his boxes. Do you think so, sir?” “No, I should think not, Mrs. Holl. He is probably leaving in this sudden and secret way, because he does not like to say good-bye to his friends, and intends to go to some fresh place where no one will know him, or this sad story I have heard of. Good morning, I am much obliged to you for your information.” So saying, Mr. Bingham went back to his son, expecting that the latter would consider this news to be bad. For it was probable that Stephen Walker had left to carry out his plan of vengeance, and was not improbably gone down to the neighbourhood of some of the works upon which they were engaged. To Mr. Bingham's surprise, Fred was excessively pleased.