Was it clearly his duty, as Bainbridge had sought to indicate, to leave Esme in the undisturbed belief in his death and in her false position as George Sinclair's wife? That course raised so many points, legal and ethical, which made its adoption difficult, if not impossible. There was the question of income. Why should his income, as well as his wife, be enjoyed by the man who, even though unwittingly, had nevertheless robbed him of everything? There was the other resource of collusive divorce. But that was only practicable by agreement, which would involve the disturbing of Esme's peace of mind, and invest her with the responsibility of decision. There was the third course of claiming her as his wife. Here again the difficulty of the child obtruded itself, an insuperable barrier to the happiness of all concerned. He wanted his wife, but he did not want the child; on that point he was firmly resolved. It was the one point in the series of complications upon which he entertained no doubt. The child was not his; he had no thought of adopting it as his: he was jealous of it, more jealous of it than he was of Sinclair. Its very helplessness made it a tremendous factor in the case. He wondered dully how Esme, when she learned of it, would receive the news of his return? Judged by ordinary standpoints, his manner of leaving her, of allowing her to remain uninformed as to his whereabouts, was unpardonable. Practically it amounted to desertion, as Bainbridge said. But his mental condition at the time he left his home was responsible for his amazing conduct. The voyage to England had been undertaken for the purpose of regaining strength, of regaining control of his nerves; the rest had been due to the unfortunate accident of circumstances: it might have happened to any one; it had happened to other men. Plenty of fellows reported missing had turned up again. He wondered whether any man, beside himself, had returned to his home to find his wife married again? And, if so, how he had acted? No precedent could have aided him in his dilemma; each case called for individual action which must be governed largely by circumstances. The big stumbling block in his own case was the child. Everything worked round to that one point and stuck there; it formed a cul-de-sac to every line of thought. Wearily Hallam returned to his hotel and went to bed and fell into the heavy, unrefreshing sleep of physical and mental exhaustion.