They went in different directions, and Snowdon made what speed he could to Tysoe Street. Sidney had already been out, walking restlessly and aimlessly for two or three hours. The news he now heard was the half-incredible fulfilment of a dread that had been torturing him through the night. No calamity is so difficult to realise when it befalls as one which has haunted us in imagination. ‘That means nothing!’ he exclaimed, as if resentfully. ‘She was dissatisfied with the lodging, that’s all. Perhaps she’s already got a place. I dare say there’s a note from her at home this morning.’ ‘Shall you go and see if there is?’ asked Snowdon, allowing, as usual, a moment’s silence to intervene. Sidney hesitated, avoiding the other’s look. ‘I shall go to that house first of all, I think. Of course I shall hear no more than they told Jane; but—’ He took a deep breath. ‘Yes, go there,’ said Snowdon; ‘but afterwards go to the Hewetts’. If she _hasn’t_ written to them, or let them have news of any kind, her father oughtn’t to be kept in ignorance for another hour.’ ‘He ought to have been told before this,’ replied Sidney, in a thick under-voice. ‘He ought to have been told on Saturday. And the blame’ll be mine.’ It is an experience familiar to impulsive and self-confident men that a moment’s crisis may render scarcely intelligible a mode of thought or course of action which till then one had deemed perfectly rational. Sidney, hopeless in spite of the pretences he made, stood aghast at the responsibility he had taken upon himself. It was so obvious to him now that he ought to have communicated to John Hewett without loss of time the news which Mrs. Hewett brought on Saturday morning. But could he be sure that John was still in ignorance of Clara’s movements? Was it not all but certain that Mrs. Hewett must have broken the news before this? If not, there lay before him a terrible duty. The two went forth together, and another visit was paid to the lodging-house. After that Sidney called upon Mrs. Tubbs, and made a simple inquiry for Clara, with the anticipated result. ‘You won’t find her in this part of London, it’s my belief,’ said the woman significantly. ‘She’s left the lodgings as she took—so much I know. Never meant to stay there, not she! You’re a friend of her father’s, mister?’ Sidney could not trust himself to make a reply. He rejoined Snowdon at a little distance, and expressed his intention of going at once to Clerkenwell Close. ‘Let me see you again to-day,’ said the old man sadly.