"Let me hear from
you, for pity's sake, as soon as you hear from her!"
Langholm sauntered on the pavement until the omnibus which he had left
was no longer distinguishable from the general traffic of the
thoroughfare. The address on the envelope was that of the lodging-house
at which he was to have called that night. He was glad now that his luck
had not left him to find Severino for himself; the sense of fatuity
would have been even keener than it was. In a way he now felt drawn to
the poor, frank boy who had so lately been the object of his unjust and
unfounded suspicions. There was a new light in which to think of him, a
new bond between them, a new spring of sympathy or jealousy, if not of
both. But Langholm was not in London to show sympathy or friendship for
any man. He was in London simply and solely upon his own great quest, in
which no man must interrupt him. That was why he had been so guarded
about his whereabouts--though not guarded enough--and why he watched the
omnibus out of sight before entering his hotel. The old Londoner had
forgotten how few places there are at which one can stay in Sloane
Street.
A bad twenty-four hours was in store for him.
Pages:
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272