We arrived at Portsmouth, where we conducted the same kind of enquiries as at Southampton.  Neither there nor at adjoining Southsea could we find a sign of the Variety Star, Ras Fendihook, and still less of the obscure Liosha.  We dined at a Southsea hotel.  We dined very well.  On that I insisted—­without much expenditure of nervous force.  Jaffery rails at me for a Sybarite and what not, but I have never seen him refuse viands on account of succulency or wine on account of flavour.  We had a quart of excellent champagne, a pint of decent port and a good cigar, and we felt that the gods were good.  That is how I like to feel.  I felt it so gratefully that when Jaffery suggested it was time to start back to Southampton in order to waylay the London train at the docks, on the off-chance of our fugitives having come down by it, and to catch the Havre boat ourselves, I had not a weary word to say.  I cheerfully contemplated the prospect of a night’s voyage to Havre.  And as Jaffery (also humanised by good cheer) had been entertaining me with juicy stories of China and other mythical lands, I felt equal to any dare-devil adventure.

We went back to Southampton and collected our luggage at the South-Western Hotel—­the hotel porter in charge thereof.  Our uncertainty as to whether we would cross or not horribly disturbed his dull brain.  Ten shillings and Jaffery’s peremptory order to stick to his side and obey him slavishly took the place of intellectual workings.  It was nearly midnight.  We walked through the docks, a background of darkness, a foreground of confusing lights amid which shone vivid illuminated placards before the brightly lit steamers—­“St. Malo”—­“Cherbourg”—­“Jersey”—­“Havre.”  At the quiet gangway of the Havre boat we waited.  The porter deposited our bags on the quay and stood patiently expectant like a dog who lays a stick at its master’s feet.

One London train came in.  The carriage doors opened and a myriad ants swarmed to the various boats.  At the Havre boat I took the fore, he the aft gangway.  Thousands passed over, men and women, vague human forms encumbered with queer projecting excrescences of impedimenta.  They all seemed alike—­just a herd of Britons, impelled by irrational instinct, like the fate-driven lemmings of Norway, to cross the sea.  And all around, weird in the conflicting lights, hurried gnome-like figures mountainously laden, and in the confusion of sounds could be heard the slither and thud of trunks being conveyed to the hold.  At last the tail of the packed wedge disappeared on board and the gangway was clear.  I went to the aft gangway to Jaffery and the porter.  Neither of us had seen Fendihook or Liosha.

A second train produced results equally barren.

There was nothing to do but carry out the prearranged plan.  We went aboard followed by the porter with the luggage.