The Lieutenant took little or no notice of Mrs. Dibble’s long speeches, but they were full of daggers to Thomas Dibble, who would have laid down his life if he could have obtained money enough to put an end to his wife’s taunts about their losses. Paul was altogether at a loss to know how to act. His first impulse was to make an effort to follow the fugitives; his first impression was that his friend had behaved treacherously; but when Dibble told him all he knew about “Chrissy,” and her belief that her father was a gentleman, and when he thought again of all that Williamson had said, and of the dark shadows upon his early life, he resolved that he would try to be patient, and wait for the next chapter in this extraordinary story of his first love. Meanwhile the fugitives were speeding on their way to Dover, their destination being Paris. Whilst they were leaving England, a traveller was journeying to London in whom the reader has a still greater interest. Lionel Hammerton was coming home. He had only been a few months at his post ere he left it. Nobody knew why he did so, or upon what plea he had obtained permission. He had not been well, his comrades knew; but a general depression of spirits rather than any physical complaint seemed to be the secret of his reticence and retirement. On board the vessel in which he went out his conduct was set down to the motion of the vessel, and a few harmless jests were made at his expense. He was advised to drink plenty of brandy and water, which would soon bring his sea legs all right; but Lionel Hammerton did not recover, except when he drank more brandy than was good for him. Now and then this occurred, and at such times he was pronounced to be a splendid fellow, a dashing, daring, high-souled fellow.