She was mad, and her madness was justifiable, but
by to-morrow she'll have calmed down. I told you it was too soon for you
to send that letter. If I were you I'd go down again to-morrow, and I'll
warrant she'll be in a different frame of mind."

Winfield was wanting to gain time. He knew that if the whisky came while
Leicester was in his present mood, nothing would stop him from
fulfilling his threat.

"She returned my letter unopened. She did not deign to read a word."

"Yes, and it was quite natural; but give her breathing space, old man.
She's a proud girl, you know that, and well--she would not listen to
reason. But through to-night she'll be lonely. She'll be thinking of the
past. She'll recall many things which hadn't occurred to her in her
anger. To-morrow, mark my word, she'll be longing to see you."

The waiter came, bringing a bottle of whisky, and placed it on the
table, but Leicester did not touch it.

Winfield sent the waiter away on some trifling commission, and then he
went on:

"If I were you, I would not start drinking to-night. You might be
mistaken, you know, and if you are----"

Leicester rose to his feet hurriedly.

"I can't eat, Winfield, and I can't sit down to the mockery of a dinner.
I'm going somewhere."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Probably to throw myself in the Thames. Sorry to be such
a fool, old man. A good appetite to you."

He rushed out of the club, and did not return till past midnight; but
when he returned he showed no signs of drinking.

The next morning he started for The Beeches again.

CHAPTER XII

THE LAST LINK BROKEN

By ten o'clock Leicester was at the door of John Castlemaine's house.
Any one who had seen him on his way from London the previous morning
would not have recognised him as the same man. For one thing he looked
at least ten years older. His face was haggard, his eyes were dull, he
walked with a kind of hesitation. The grounds were deserted, no one was
anywhere visible.

He rang the door bell, and a minute later the door was opened by the old
servant who had appeared the day before.

"Is Miss Castlemaine at home?"

"No, sir."

"Come, now, that is a polite figment. You mean that she is not at home
to me."

"I mean what I say, sir; she is not at home."

"And Mr. Castlemaine?"

"He's not at home either, sir."

"Do you mean to say they are gone away?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Come, now, no more of your li