‘Curious.  It may have been Peak.’

’By all that’s suspicious, I can’t help thinking the same!  He had an English accent, too.’

’Queer business, this of Peak’s.  I hope I may live to hear the end of the story.’

They left the restaurant, and in a few hours Earwaker was again on English soil.

At Staple Inn a pile of letters awaited him, among them a note from Christian Moxey, asking for an appointment as soon as possible after the journalist’s return.  Earwaker at once sent an invitation, and on the next evening Moxey came.  An intimacy had grown up between the two, since the mysterious retreat of their common friend.  Christian was at first lost without the companionship of Godwin Peak; he forsook his studies, and fell into a state of complete idleness which naturally fostered his tendency to find solace in the decanter.  With Earwaker, he could not talk as unreservedly as with Peak, but on the other hand there was a tonic influence in the journalist’s personality which he recognised as beneficial.  Earwaker was steadily making his way in the world, lived a life of dignified independence.  What was the secret of these strong, calm natures?  Might it not be learnt by studious inspection?

‘How well you look!’ Christian exclaimed, on entering.  ’We enjoyed your Provencal letter enormously.  That’s a ramble I have always meant to do.  Next year perhaps.’

’Why not this?  Haven’t you got into a dangerous habit of postponement?’

’Yes, I’m afraid I have.  But, by-the-bye, no news of Peak, I suppose?’

Earwaker related the story he had heard from Malkin, adding: 

’You must remember that they met only once in London; Malkin might very well mistake another man for Peak.’

‘Yes,’ replied the other musingly.  ’Yet it isn’t impossible that Peak has gone over there.  If so, what on earth can he be up to?  Why should he hide from his friends?’

‘Cherchez la femme,’ said the journalist, with a smile.  ’I can devise no other explanation.’

’But I can’t see that it would be an explanation at all.  Grant even —­something unavowable, you know—­are we Puritans?  How could it harm him, at all events, to let us know his whereabouts?  No such mystery ever came into my experience.  It is too bad of Peak; it’s confoundedly unkind.’

’Suppose he has found it necessary to assume a character wholly fictitious—­or, let us say, quite inconsistent with his life and opinions as known to us?’

This was a fruitful suggestion, long in Earwaker’s mind, but not hitherto communicated.  Christian did not at once grasp its significance.

’How could that be necessary?  Peak is no swindler.  You don’t imply that he is engaged in some fraud?’

’Not in the ordinary sense, decidedly.  But picture some girl or woman of conventional opinions and surroundings.  What if he resolved to win such a wife, at the expense of disguising his true self?’