He directed his letter, stamped it, and posted it in the library post-box in the vestibule. Then, cap in hand, he pushed open the swing-doors and ran straight into Mr. Parham-Carter. "Hullo!" said that clergyman--and went a little white. "Hullo!" said Frank; and then: "What's the matter?" "Where are you going?" "I'm going back to the jam factory." "May I walk with you?" "Certainly, if you don't mind my eating as I go along." The clergyman turned with him and went beside him in silence, as Frank, drawing out of his side-pocket a large hunch of bread and cheese, wrapped up in the advertisement sheet of the _Daily Mail_, began to fill his mouth. "I want to know if you've had any news from home." Frank turned to him slightly. "No," he said sharply, after a pause. Mr. Parham-Carter licked his lips. "Well--no, it isn't bad news; but I wondered whether--" "What is it?" "Your governor's married again. It happened yesterday. I thought perhaps you didn't know." There was dead silence for an instant. "No, I didn't know," said Frank. "Who's he married?" "Somebody I never heard of. I wondered whether you knew her." "What's her name?" "Wait a second," said the other, plunging under his greatcoat to get at his waistcoat pocket. "I've got the paragraph here. I cut it out of the _Morning Post_. I only saw it half an hour ago. I was coming round to you this evening." He produced a slip of printed paper. Frank stood still a moment, leaning against some area-railings--they were in the distinguished quarter of Victoria Park Road--and read the paragraph through. The clergyman watched him curiously. It seemed to him a very remarkable situation that he should be standing here in Victoria Park Road, giving information to a son as to his father's marriage. He wondered, but only secondarily, what effect it would have upon Frank. Frank gave him the paper back without a tremor. "Thanks very much," he said. "No; I didn't know." They continued to walk. "D'you know her at all?" "Yes, I know her. She's the Rector's daughter, you know." "What! At Merefield? Then you must know her quite well." "Oh! yes," said Frank, "I know her quite well." Again there was silence. Then the other burst out: "Look here--I wish you'd let me do something. It seems to me perfectly ghastly--" "My dear man," said Frank. "Indeed you can't do anything.... You got my note, didn't you?" The clergyman nodded. "It's just in case I'm ill, or anything, you know. Jack's a great friend of mine. And it's just as well that some friend of mine should be able to find out where I am. I've just written to him myself, as I said in my note. But you mustn't give him my address unless in case of real need." "All right. But are you sure--" "I'm perfectly sure.... Oh! by the way, that lady you sent round did no good. I expect she told you?" "Yes; she said she'd never come across such a difficult case." "Well, I shall have to try again myself.... I must turn off here. Good luck!" (IV)