remembered Mr. Hamilton was in London: there was danger of encountering
him at Victoria. It was five now: he might possibly return to dinner. I
could scarcely breathe as this new terror presented itself to me, for if
Eric caught sight of his brother all would be lost.

When the train stopped, I followed the young workman as closely as
possible. As we were turning in the subterranean passage for the District
Railway, my heart seemed to stop. There was Mr. Hamilton reading his
paper under the clock: we actually passed within twenty yards of him, and
he did not raise his eyes. I am sure Eric saw him, for he suddenly dived
into the passage, and I had much trouble to keep him in sight: as it was,
I was only just in time to hear him ask for a third-class single to
Bishop's Road.

I did not dare enter the same compartment, but I got into the next,
and now and then, when our train stopped at the different stations,
I could hear him distinctly talking to a fellow-workman, in a refined,
gentlemanly voice, that would have attracted attention to him anywhere.
Once the other man called him Jack, and asked where he hung out, and I
noticed this question was cleverly eluded, but I heard him say afterwards
that he was in regular work, and liked his present governor, and that the
old woman who looked after him was a tidy, decent lady, and kept things
comfortable. My thoughts strayed a little after this. The sight of Mr.
Hamilton had disturbed me. What would he think when Gladys showed him
my telegram? He had promised to finish our conversation this evening.
I felt with a strange soreness of longing that I should not see Gladwyn
that night. My absence of mind nearly cost me dear, for I had no idea
that we had reached Bishop's Road until Eric passed my window, and with a
smothered exclamation I opened the door: happily, the passengers were
numerous and blocked up the stairs, so I reached the street to find him
only a few yards before me.

My patience was being severely exercised after this, for Eric did not go
straight to his lodgings. He went into a butcher's first, and after a few
minutes' delay--for there were customers in the shop--came out with a
newspaper parcel in his hand. Then he went into a grocer's, and through
the window I could see him putting little packets of tea and sugar in his
pocket.

His next business was to the baker's, and here a three-cornered crusty
loaf was the result. The poor young fellow was evidently provid