he pencilled scrawl with difficulty. The name
was Catherine Pursill, Charleswood, Surrey. It remained in his mind for a
special reason. Sisily was afraid she might lose the paper (perhaps, like
her mother, she had some prescience of the future) and he had endeavoured
to divert her thoughts by making "memory pictures" of the name and address
after the method of a thought reader. He had told her to picture a cat
sitting on a window ledge, and that would fix the name in her mind.
"Purr"--"Sill"--there it was! As for the place, it was only necessary to
imagine him wandering in a wood (he slyly suggested it)--Charleswood, and
there they were again!

Sisily had smiled wanly at these "memory pictures" and said she would
always be able to remember the address of her mother's old friend by their
means.

They were effectual enough in his own case. The grotesque association of
ideas brought the address to his mind when he first thought of seeking
Sisily in London. He decided to go to Charleswood as soon as he reached
there. The dying woman seemed quite certain her old friend was still in
Charleswood, although it was twenty years since she had heard from her.
She had told Sisily that Mrs. Pursill's house was her own, and it had
belonged to her parents before her. She had assumed that she was not
likely to move. The possibility that Death might have moved her without
consulting her convenience did not seem to have occurred to her.

It did to Charles Turold though, on his journey up from Cornwall. But he
thrust the chilling thought resolutely from him, clinging to his slight
clue because he had nothing else to sustain him, building such hopes upon
it that by the time he reached London scarcely a doubt remained. He spent
the last hour of his journey picturing his meeting with the runaway girl,
holding her, kissing her, sheltering her in his arms from the world. And
afterwards? He refused to contemplate what was to happen afterwards, and
how he was to shield her from the unsentimental clutch of the law which
was also seeking her. He declined also to allow his thoughts to dwell upon
his own position, which was invidious and threatening enough in all
conscience for a man setting out to be the buckler and shield of a girl in
Sisily's plight. He put these obtrusive contingencies out of his mind.
Time enough for those bitter reflections afterwards. The great thing was
to find Sisily first, before shaping further action. So he reasoned, wit