This morning, whilst he sat over his bowl of coffee and petit pain, a certain recollection haunted him persistently.  Yesterday, in turning out his pockets, he had come upon a scrap of paper, whereon was written: 

“93, Belmont Street, Chalk Farm Road, London, N.W.”

This formula it was which now kept running through his mind, like a refrain which will not be dismissed.

He reproached himself for neglect of his promise to Mrs. Brewer.  More than that, he charged himself with foolish disregard of a possibility which might have boundless significance for him.  Here, it seemed, was sufficient motive for a return to London.  The alternative was to wander on, and see more of foreign countries; a tempting suggestion, but marred by the prospect of loneliness.  He would go back among his own people and make friends.  Without comradeship, liberty had little savour.

Still travelling with as small expense as might be, he reached London in the forenoon, left his luggage at Victoria Station, and, after a meal, betook himself in the northerly direction.  It was a rainy and uncomfortable day, but this did not much affect his spirits; he felt like a man new risen from illness, seemed to have cast off something that had threatened his very existence, and marvelled at the state of mind in which it had been possible for him to inhabit London without turning his steps towards the address of Eve Madeley.

He discovered Belmont Street.  It consisted of humble houses, and was dreary enough to look upon.  As he sought for No. 93, a sudden nervousness attacked him; he became conscious all at once of the strangeness of his position.  At his hour it. was unlikely that Eve would be at home an inquiry at the house and the leaving of a verbal message would discharge his obligation; but he proposed more than that.  It was his resolve to see Eve herself, to behold the face which, in a picture, had grown so familiar to him.  Yet till this moment he had overlooked the difficulties of the enterprise.  Could he, on the strength of an acquaintance with Mrs. Brewer, claim the friendly regards of this girl who had never heard his name?  If he saw her once, on what pretext could he seek for a second meeting?

Possibly he would not desire it.  Eve in her own person might disenchant him.

Meanwhile he had discovered the house, and without further debate he knocked.  The door was opened by a woman of ordinary type, slatternly, and with suspicious eye.

“Miss Madeley did live here,” she said, “but she’s been gone a month or more.”

“Can you tell me where she is living now?”

After a searching look the woman replied that she could not.  In the manner of her kind, she was anxious to dismiss the inquirer and get the door shut.  Gravely disappointed, Hilliard felt unable to turn away without a further question.

“Perhaps you know where she is, or was, employed?”