Holdsworth’s plans had been fully settled by him the night before; and one part of them was that he should put up at some inn at Hanwitch, while he made inquiries of deep interest to himself, and obtained a lodging. Having followed the porter into the bar and ordered a bed for the night, he re-entered the street. His emotions, as he first began to walk, were conflicting and painful. He was now in the town where his wife lived; any moment might bring them face to face, and the wildest anxiety to see her was mixed up with a sensation of shrinking fear of the encounter. He stared eagerly at the people, and now and again, when a little child passed, his heart beat rapidly, and he felt his blood leave his face. But he mastered himself soon, repeatedly muttering, as a reassuring argument, that, were they to meet, Dolly would not know him. He was in the main street, walking slowly, and helping his step with a stick, not more from habit than from necessity, for he was frequently seized with a weakness in the legs which would sometimes oblige him to stop, or seat himself if a seat were at hand. His object now was to find out where Dolly lived, a question he would not ask the landlady at Southbourne, lest, added to the inquiries he had already made, it should excite her suspicion and set her surmising. He noticed a small chemist’s shop opposite, and, his mind establishing a friendly connection between drugs and dentistry, he crossed and entered. A bald-headed man in spectacles received him with a bow. “Can you tell me where Mr. Conway, the dentist, lives?” The chemist, who knew perfectly well, scratched his ear and seemed to reflect. He drew teeth himself, and was not disposed to furnish a rival with a patient if he could help it. “I know the name, sir, and----might I ask if you want anything done to your teeth.” “No, I merely wish to know where Mr. Conway lives.” “It’s not for me to speak ill of a brother practitioner, and as I shan’t mention names, no harm can be done,” said the chemist, with his eye on Holdsworth’s mouth; “but I do say that it’s a pity people should start in a business, requiring as much skill as the highest branches of surgery, without knowing the difference between an eye and a wisdom tooth, and drinking to that degree that their hands tremble like the windows of a coach in full tear.” “Does Mr. Conway drink?” “I name no names,” replied the chemist, assuming an injured expression of face. “I should be sorry to take away any man’s character, not to speak of the bread out of his mouth, though there are some people not quite so particular as me in that matter, and will start lies which should make ’em afraid to go to bed. All that I say is, that if I had a toothache, and wanted to get my jaw broke and my gum tore out, I’d go to a certain person livin’ not a day’s walk from this shop, and ask him to look at my tooth.”