Mr. James nodded and smiled the same curious smile. "Good-morning, Mr. Barker," he said. "Good-morning. I'll leave this empty bag till next time I call." "Which I hope will be before very long, eh, Mr. James? Always happy to accommodate you, you know." "We shall see what we shall see. And so, once more, good-morning." He went without another word, closing the green baize door behind him. A minute later he found himself in the street. Mr. James Hazeldine walked on till he was overtaken by an empty cab. This he hailed, and was driven westward. Although he had told Mr. Barker that he never drank before dinner, he now went into a tavern in the Strand, and called for a tumbler of hot brandy and water and then for another, both of which he drank in less than five minutes. In truth, he looked very haggard and ill. During the next half hour he wandered up and down the Strand in a purposeless sort of way, staring into the shop windows, but having no thought or interest in anything he saw there. More than once he took a letter out of the breast pocket of his coat, read the address over to himself, and then put it back again. At length, spying a pillar-box in a side street, he walked slowly up to it and again took out the letter. It was directed as under: "Edward Hazeldine, Esq., "The Brewery, "Beecham by Ashdown, "Midlandshire." He dropped the letter into the box. "That settles everything," he muttered. "There can be no turning back now. Edward will get it by the first post to-morrow." Why was Mr. Hazeldine posting a letter to his son, whom he would probably see in the course of the evening? He turned back into the Strand, and entering a restaurant, called for a basin of soup. He ate about half of it, finished up with a glass of sherry, and then ordered a cab and was driven to the terminus. Going into the cloak-room at the station, he there redeemed a black bag, precisely similar in size and appearance to the empty bag he had left in Mr. Barker's office. This bag, which apparently contained something heavy, he took with him into the carriage and placed it in the netting over his head. There were other passengers in the compartment, but he spoke to no one. He pulled up the collar of his coat and shut his eyes, and, to all appearance, went fast asleep. The clocks were striking seven as he walked out of Ashdown station, carrying his bag in one hand and his umbrella in the other. Mr. Hazeldine's house was not far from the station. He let himself in by means of his latchkey, and walked straight into the drawing-room, where he found his wife and daughter. "You are late this evening, dear," said Mrs. Hazeldine, languidly, as if his being so were a matter of no moment. "Yes, I had some special business to transact, and could not get done in time to catch the two o'clock train." And yet he had spent nearly an hour mooning about the Strand! He sat down in his easy-chair with an air of weariness.