He had written a frantic letter to Frank himself then, but it had been returned, marked: "Unknown at this address." And ever since he had eyed all tramps on the road with an earnestness that elicited occasionally a salute, and occasionally an impolite remark. The figure whose back he saw now certainly was not much like Frank; but then--again--it was rather like him. It was dressed in a jacket and trousers so stained with dust and wet as to have no color of their own at all, and a cloth cap of the same appearance. A bundle tied up in a red handkerchief, and a heavy stick, rested propped against an angle of the recess. Jack cleared his throat rather loud and stood still, prepared to be admiring the view, in case of necessity; the figure turned an eye over its shoulder, then faced completely round; and it was Frank Guiseley. Jack for the first instant said nothing at all, but stood transfixed, with his mouth a little open and his eyes staring. Frank's face was sunburned almost beyond recognition, his hair seemed cut shorter than usual, and the light was behind him. Then Jack recovered. "My dear man," he said, "why the--" He seized him by the hands and held him, staring at him. "Yes; it's me all right," said Frank. "I was just wondering--" "Come along, instantly.... Damn! I've got to go to a tobacconist's; it's only just here. There isn't a cigarette in the house. Come with me?" "I'll wait here," said Frank. "Will you? I shan't be a second." It was, as a matter of fact, scarcely one minute before Jack was back; he had darted in, snatched a box from the shelf and vanished, crying out to "put it down to him." He found Frank had faced round again and was staring at the water and sky and high moors. He snatched up his friend's bundle and stick. "Come along," he said, "we shall have an hour or two before dinner." Frank, in silence, took the bundle and stick from him again, firmly and irresistibly, and they did not speak again till they were out of ear-shot of the lodge. Then Jack began, taking Frank's arm--a custom for which he had often been rebuked. "My dear old man!" he said. "I ... I can't say what I feel. I know the whole thing, of course, and I've expressed my mind plainly to Miss Jenny." "Yes?" "And to your father. Neither have answered, and naturally I haven't been over again.... Dick's been there, by the way." Frank made no comment. "You look simply awful, old chap," pursued Jack cheerily. "Where on earth have you been for the last month? I wrote to York and got the letter returned." "Oh! I've been up and down," said Frank impassively. "With the people you were with before--the man, I mean?" "No. I've left them for the present. But I shall probably join them again later." "Join...!" began the other aghast. "Certainly! This thing's only just begun," said Frank, with that same odd impassivity. "We've seen the worst of it, I fancy." "But you don't mean you're going back! Why, it's ridiculous!"