ary,--be my companion for
twelve hours. I cannot talk to you here, enclosed and oppressed with
streets of houses. Come with me for a few hours on the water; I have a
fancy to see the sun rise for the last time over the sea. I have my
yacht ready near London Bridge, and a boat waiting at the steps by
Cleopatra's Needle; a cab will soon take us there. Will you come?"

Lefevre did not look up. The voice of Julius sounded like an appeal from
the very abode of death. Then he glanced in spite of himself in his
face, and was moved and melted to unreserved compassion by the strained
weariness of his expression--the open, luminous wistfulness of his eyes.

"Yes; I'll go," said he. "But can't I do something for you first? Let me
consider your case."

"There's nothing now to be done for me, Lefevre," said Julius, shaking
his head. "You will perceive that when you have heard me out."

The doctor went to find his man and tell him that he was going out for
the night to attend on an urgent case. When he returned he stood a
moment touched with misgiving. He thought of Lady Mary--he thought of
his mother and sister. Ought he not to leave some hint behind him of the
strange adventure upon which he was about to embark, and which might end
he knew not how or where? Julius was observing him, and seemed to divine
his doubt.

"You need have no hesitation," said he. "I ask you only for twelve
hours. You can easily get back here by noon to-morrow. There is a
south-west wind blowing, with every prospect of settled weather. I am
quite certain about it."

Fortified with that assurance, Lefevre put on a thicker overcoat and an
old soft hat, turned out the lights in the dining-room and in the hall,
closed the door with a slam, and stood with the new, the strange Julius
in the street, fairly embarked upon his adventure. It was only with an
effort that he could realise he was in the company of one who had been a
familiar friend. They walked towards Regent Street without speaking. At
the corner of Savile Row they came upon a policeman, and Lefevre had a
sudden thrill of fear lest his companion should, at length, be
recognised and arrested. Courtney himself, however, appeared in no wise
disturbed. In Regent Street he hailed a passing four-wheeler.

"Wouldn't a hansom be quicker?" said Lefevre.

"It is better on your account," said Julius, "that we should sit apart."

When they entered the cab, Courtney ensconced himself in the remote
corner of