It gave him an extraordinary check in the height of his concentrated self-control, to find everything empty when he came in. There was no trace even that anyone had ever been there. The respectable little sitting-room looked exactly as it had done ever since he knew it--the chairs put back in their places, the _Standard_ carefully folded upon the table where he had left it in the morning, no appearance anywhere that anything had happened since then. He stood still for a moment with a gasp of dismay, wondering whether he had only dreamt all this, if it had been a mere nightmare, a feverish vision. Could he but persuade himself that this was so, that he was the same John Sandford he had been in the morning, with the ball still at his foot! For the moment a wild hope gleamed across him; but it was only for a moment. He sat down and stared about him, wondering to see everything the same. All the same! yet altogether changed, as no external convulsion could have changed it: an earthquake would have been nothing in comparison. If a bomb had suddenly exploded upon the decent carpet among the inoffensive furniture, and shattered the innocent house to pieces, what would that have been in comparison? These were the ridiculous thoughts that came across his mind, and almost made him laugh in the first revulsion of feeling, which was disappointment and relief, and yet was nothing at all. For what did it matter? The thing had been, and could not be wiped out. It existed and could never be swept away. Ignore it if he could, forget it even if he could, there all the same it would be. He could not be rid of it ever, for ever. He sat silent awhile realising this, and then rose and went to ring the bell: but, before he could touch it, he was startled by a tap at the door. It was only his landlady who came in--but she had her best cap on, and looked as if she had something to say. She was embarrassed, and turned round and round on her finger a ring which was too big for her. ‘If you please, Mr. Sandford----’ she began. ‘Yes? I left two--people here. Do you know where they have gone?’ ‘That’s why I made so bold as to come in, Mr. Sandford. I don’t like saying of it, sir. You have always been a gentleman as I’ve been glad to have in my house.’ ‘Yes. What message did they leave? Where have they gone? I came back expecting to find them here.’ ‘I never was fond of young gentlemen,’ said Mrs. Short, taking out her handkerchief. ‘They pay well, as a rule, and they don’t give much trouble, being out all day: but I’ve always been afraid of them. They’re chancy-like--you don’t know what they may do, or who they may bring.’ ‘Another time,’ said John, ‘if you’ve anything to say to me--but at present I want to know what message---- Did they say where they were going?’