"Nothing whatever," she replied. "My dear husband was just his old self. His depression about Walter Leigh soon passed away, and he spoke cheerfully about his own prospects and said how exceptionally lucky he considered himself to be able to resume his professional work so soon after such a severe illness. The evening post, too, brought him a letter, which cheered him a good deal. It was from a solicitor in large practice, offering him the brief of a very important case which was to come on in the criminal courts. Edward was highly delighted at the thought of this work, which meant large fees, badly needed by us just at present. Early the next morning the post brought us the news about Nancy's illness. My husband wished to go with me to Croydon, but I dissuaded him. I did not consider him strong enough, notwithstanding his boasted return to health, for this fatigue. He saw me off at the station, however, and promised to meet me there the following morning, if the child were well enough for me to return." "Were you surprised when you did not see him?" "I was, for he is the sort of man who always keeps any engagement he makes." "A few more questions, Mrs. Mainwaring; and first, how long have you been married?" "Six years," she said, looking up with a faint blush on her white face, "and Nancy will be five in a week." "You never happened to meet this Walter Leigh?" "Never." "Did your husband ever speak of him to you until two days ago?" "It is strange, but he never did. He is, as a rule, a very busy man--much occupied with a growing practice." "Did you happen to know any of his college friends?" "No." "You were not in any way connected with that part of his life?" "No; we never met until, at least, three years after my husband left Cambridge." "Thank you," I said. "I do not think I have anything further to ask you." "But what do you mean to do?" she asked. "We can't sit here quietly and allow my unhappy husband to roam the country. He _must_ be found, and at once. He--he may have----" Her lips trembled, she lowered her eyes. "No," I said. "He has not committed suicide. Rest easy on that point. From what you tell me of your husband I feel inclined to think--of course, I may be wrong--but I feel strongly inclined to think that he is at Dover at the present moment." "What can you possibly mean?" "What I say. It is quite within the region of probability that he may be at Dover waiting for his friend Walter Leigh to join him." When I said this Mrs. Mainwaring looked at me as if she thought I, too, had taken leave of my senses. I took no notice of her expressive face. "I am prepared to go with you to Dover," I said. "Shall we start at once?" She looked dubious and terribly anxious. "It seems a waste of time," she said, after a pause.