“You are, in every way, Mr. Gilmore, much fitter to advise and to act in the matter than I am.  Is it an indiscretion on my part to ask if you have decided yet on a course of proceeding?”

“So far as it is possible to decide, Mr. Hartright, I have decided.  I mean to send a copy of the letter, accompanied by a statement of the circumstances, to Sir Percival Glyde’s solicitor in London, with whom I have some acquaintance.  The letter itself I shall keep here to show to Sir Percival as soon as he arrives.  The tracing of the two women I have already provided for, by sending one of Mr. Fairlie’s servants—­a confidential person—­to the station to make inquiries.  The man has his money and his directions, and he will follow the women in the event of his finding any clue.  This is all that can be done until Sir Percival comes on Monday.  I have no doubt myself that every explanation which can be expected from a gentleman and a man of honour, he will readily give.  Sir Percival stands very high, sir—­an eminent position, a reputation above suspicion—­I feel quite easy about results—­quite easy, I am rejoiced to assure you.  Things of this sort happen constantly in my experience.  Anonymous letters—­ unfortunate woman—­sad state of society.  I don’t deny that there are peculiar complications in this case; but the case itself is, most unhappily, common—­common.”

“I am afraid, Mr. Gilmore, I have the misfortune to differ from you in the view I take of the case.”

“Just so, my dear sir—­just so.  I am an old man, and I take the practical view.  You are a young man, and you take the romantic view.  Let us not dispute about our views.  I live professionally in an atmosphere of disputation, Mr. Hartright, and I am only too glad to escape from it, as I am escaping here.  We will wait for events—­yes, yes, yes—­we will wait for events.  Charming place this.  Good shooting?  Probably not, none of Mr. Fairlie’s land is preserved, I think.  Charming place, though, and delightful people.  You draw and paint, I hear, Mr. Hartright?  Enviable accomplishment.  What style?”

We dropped into general conversation, or rather, Mr. Gilmore talked and I listened.  My attention was far from him, and from the topics on which he discoursed so fluently.  The solitary walk of the last two hours had wrought its effect on me—­it had set the idea in my mind of hastening my departure from Limmeridge House.  Why should I prolong the hard trial of saying farewell by one unnecessary minute?  What further service was required of me by any one?  There was no useful purpose to be served by my stay in Cumberland—­there was no restriction of time in the permission to leave which my employer had granted to me.  Why not end it there and then?

I determined to end it.  There were some hours of daylight still left—­there was no reason why my journey back to London should not begin on that afternoon.  I made the first civil excuse that occurred to me for leaving Mr. Gilmore, and returned at once to the house.