He had settled his account with the first of the three people whom he had come to London to see. From Lord Frederick's chambers he went straight to Colonel Tempest's lodgings in Brook Street. But Colonel Tempest had that morning departed with his son to Brighton, and John, momentarily thrown off his line of action by that simple occurrence, stared blankly at the landlady, and then went to his club and sat down to write to him. There was no question of waiting. Like a man walking across Niagara on a tight rope, it was no time to think, to hesitate, to look round. John kept his eyes riveted to one point, and shut his ears to the roar of the torrent below him, in which a moment's giddiness would engulf him. It was afternoon by this time. As he sat writing at a table in one of the bay windows, a familiar voice spoke to him. It was Lord Hemsworth. They had not met since the night of the ice carnival. Lord Hemsworth's face had quite lost its boyish expression. "I hope you are better, Tempest," he said, with obvious constraint, looking narrowly at him. Could Di's accepted lover wear so grey and stern a look as this? John replied that he was well; and then, with sudden recollection of Mitty's account of Lord Hemsworth's conduct during that memorable night, began to thank him, and stopped short. The room was empty. "It was on _her_ account," said Lord Hemsworth. John did not answer. It was that conviction which had pulled him up. Lord Hemsworth waited some time for John to speak, and then he said-- "You know about me, Tempest, and why I was on the ice that night. Well, I have kept out of the way for three months under the belief that--I should hear any day that---- I am not such a fool as to pit myself against you--I don't want to be a nuisance to---- But it's three months. For God's sake tell me; are you on or are you not?" "I am not," said John. "Then I will try my luck," said the other. He went out, and John knew that he had gone to try it there and then; and sat motionless, with his hand across his mouth and his unfinished letter before him, until the servant came to close the shutters. CHAPTER XI. "We live together years and years, And leave unsounded still Each other's springs of hopes and fears, Each other's depths of will." LORD HOUGHTON.