It was by no means characteristic of Jake to linger on a quest which had already proved fruitless but he was a man who possessed acquaintances in almost all parts of the world, and Paris was no exception.  For the rest of the day after leaving Saltash he was philosophically occupied in seeking out old friends.  Eventually he dined at a restaurant and betook himself to the station to catch the night train to Calais.  It was all one to Jake whether he travelled by night or by day, so wholly accustomed was he to adapt himself to circumstances.  Maud was wont to say with a smile that the luxuries of decent living were utterly thrown away upon him.  He was a man who scarcely noticed physical discomfort.  He could sleep under practically any conditions.

Walking solidly down the platform, carrying his own baggage, his thoughts were completely astray from his surroundings.  They had reverted to the memory of the girlish figure he had seen that morning seated on a table, swinging one leg in studied nonchalance while every line was instinct with defiance.  Yes, she had defied him, but deep in her heart she had feared—­how she had feared!—­that Saltash would fail to hold her against him.  Again, a deep compassion came over Jake, stirring the very depths of him.  Poor little girl, flung to and fro as flotsam in the cruel surf of life’s breakers!  He had done his best to deliver her, but Fate had been against him.  Fate had ordained that she should be the victim of this man’s caprice, the slave of impulses which might or might not be her destruction.  It was as if he watched her trying to walk on a quicksand.  And he was powerless to help her.  Saltash had defeated him, and he had no insight into his motives.  Unstable, baffling, irresponsible as a monkey that swings from tree to tree, he had snatched his prize, and even Jake, who knew him better than most, could only speculate as to whether he would carry it high above disaster or tire and idly fling it away.  Some vagrant sense of honour seemed to have actuated him so far, but never yet had he known such a motive to last for long.  The man’s face was beyond him, too fantastic for comprehension.  He recognized that he was capable of greatness, but very few were the occasions on which he had achieved it.  If the motive power were lacking in this instance, Toby’s chances were indeed small.

He found an empty carriage and threw his belongings on to a seat.  The train was not a favourite one, and there would be no crowd.  He had some minutes to wait, and he lighted his pipe and began to pace the platform unencumbered.  A few travellers straggling by eyed him with some interest.  He was not a man to be passed unnoticed.  The massive, thick-set shoulders had a bull-dog strength that must have marked him in any crowd.  His height was unremarkable, but there was power in every dominant line of him.  He had the free carriage of one accustomed to the wide places of the earth.

He took small note of his fellow-travellers, being engrossed in his own thoughts.  He wondered how Maud would regard the situation, and half wished she had been with him to deal with it.  For Maud possessed undoubted influence over Saltash.  He reflected that she was probably the only person in the world who did.