"Address not known. They have not written yet.--Susan." "Was any poor wretch ever so tortured by fate?" he muttered; and he threw himself into a chair to try and think out some way of finding out the address to which he had sent Marion. At last, faint, and with his brain in a whirl, he sought for temporary release from his sufferings in one of the bottles of drugs in his consulting-room. But the ordinary dose seemed to have no effect, and he repeated it at intervals twice before he sank into a state of lethargy from which he did not awaken till morning, to find himself lying back in a corner of the couch, with the three servants gathered in consultation. "Yes," he cried wildly, "what is it?--what is the matter?" "Nothing, sir, only that you frightened us. It's past eleven o'clock, and we were going to send for a doctor," said the parlour-maid. "No, nothing the matter. I was tired out, and overslept myself. Here, stop! Has--has Miss Laura come back?" "No, sir." "That will do. Go away." "Hadn't you better have a cup o' tea, sir?" said the cook, suggesting the universal panacea. "No, no!" he cried, so fiercely that the servants backed out, and the wretched man let his burning, confused head sink into his hands while he tried to collect his thoughts. But it was in vain. He bathed his temples, went into the breakfast-room and tried to partake of food, but gave it up in disgust, and finally turned to the drug again. "This can't go on," he muttered; "the human brain cannot stand it. Months of strain now, and my position worse than ever. And even now the police may have traced her, and she be looking vainly to me for help." He did not hear a ring at the front door, for he went back to his consulting-room, to sit with his head in his hands; neither did he hear the conversation going on after the closely-veiled lady who rang had been admitted. "Gone! You think Miss Laura will not return?" "I don't think so miss." There was a few moments' thoughtful silence. "Where is your master?" "In his consulting-room, miss, in a dreadful state. Oughtn't a doctor to be fetched to him? He looks so awful; his eyes roll at you as if he was going mad." There was another thoughtful pause, and then the visitor said firmly, "Go and ask Mr Chester if he will see me for a few moments." "Please, miss--ma'am--I really daren't," said the maid, pitifully. "He frightened me so last time I went into the room that I'd sooner leave at once than go in." There was a third period of hesitation, and then without a word the visitor went straight to the consulting-room, entered, and closed the door. Chester did not stir, but sat there in the gloomy place with his head bent, the image of utterly abased despair; and the visitor stood looking down pityingly at him for some moments before she spoke. Her voice seemed to galvanise him into life, and he started up and gazed at her wonderingly. "Isabel?" he cried. "Yes, Fred; I have come."