The next morning he went to Mudie's on his own account, and came away with volumes chosen from those which lay on the counter. He was tired of wandering about the town, and might as well pass his time in reading. When Sunday came, he sought the appointed spot at Hampstead, and there, after an hour's waiting, met the two friends. Eve was no longer in her vivacious mood; brilliant sunshine, and the breeze upon the heath, had no power to inspirit her; spoke in monosyllables, and behaved with unaccountable reserve. Hilliard had no choice but to converse with Patty, who was as gay and entertaining as ever. In the course of their gossip he learnt that Miss Ringrose was employed at a music-shop, kept by her uncle, where she sold the latest songs and dances, and "tried over" on a piano any unfamiliar piece which a customer might think of purchasing. It was not easy to understand how these two girls came to be so intimate, for they seemed to have very little in common. Compared with Eve Madeley, Patty was an insignificant little person; but of her moral uprightness Hilliard felt only the more assured the longer he talked with her, and this still had a favourable effect upon his estimate of Eve. Again there passed a few days without event. But about nine o'clock on Wednesday evening, as he sat at home over a book, his landlady entered the room with a surprising announcement. "There's a young lady wishes to see you, Sir. Miss Ringrose is the name." Hilliard sprang up. "Please ask her to come in." The woman eyed him in a manner he was too excited to understand. "She would like to speak to you at the door, Sir, if you wouldn't mind going out." He hastened thither. The front door stood open, and a light from the passage shone on Patty's face. In the girl's look he saw at once that something was wrong. "Oh, Mr. Hilliard--I didn't know your number--I've been to a lot of houses asking for you----" "What is it?" he inquired, going out on to the doorstep. "I called to see Eve, and--I don't know what it meant, but she's gone away. The landlady says she left this morning with her luggage--went away for good. And it's so strange that she hasn't let me know anything. I can't understand it. I wanted to ask if you know----" Hilliard stared at the house opposite. "I? I know nothing whatever about it. Come in and tell me----" "If you wouldn't mind coming out----" "Yes, yes. One moment; I'll get my hat." He rejoined the girl, and they turned in the direction of Euston Square, where people were few. "I couldn't help coming to see you, Mr. Hilliard," said Patty, whose manner indicated the gravest concern. "It has put me in such a fright. I haven't seen her since Sunday. I came to-night, as soon as I could get away from the shop, because I didn't feel easy in my mind about her." "Why did you feel anxious? What has been going on?"