‘With all my heart. There was no harm in asking,’ replied Frederick, as he heard the town clock strike three, and hastened towards the hotel. He reached it, almost running, and, going breathlessly upstairs, threw open the door of their sitting-room. But Jenny was not there. A waiter was employed putting the last touches to the luncheon-table, which was evidently only waiting their return to be spread with the noonday meal. ‘Where is Mrs Walcheren?’ inquired Frederick. ‘I don’t know, sir,’ replied the stolid waiter, as he continued putting out cruets and water bottles. Frederick ran up to their bedroom, which was on an upper floor, and finding that also empty, put on his straw hat again and descended to the vestibule. ‘Has my wife--Mrs Walcheren, gone out?’ he asked of the porter. ‘Well, sir, I really can’t say. There’s been a gentleman asking that question here already, but I couldn’t give him no satisfaction. I suppose the lady must be out, because we can’t find her nowhere, but none of us see her pass through the hall, and I’ll take my oath she hasn’t come in, for I’ve never left my post one minute. Perhaps she went to the beach to you, sir.’ ‘Oh, doubtless, but about the gentleman who called to see her, what was his name?’ ‘He didn’t leave no name, sir, but said he would call again.’ ‘What was he like? Short and stout and middle-aged, with rather a red complexion, eh?’ He concluded at once that it must have been Mr Crampton, who had followed his daughter on the receipt of her letter that morning. ‘Well, not very red in the face, sir, but stoutish certainly, and not over tall.’ ‘I know him,’ replied Frederick, thinking he did. ‘If he comes again during my absence, ask him to walk upstairs and wait until we return.’ ‘All right, sir.’