And now you will come and have something to
eat with me; it is my usual time."
Julian declined, however, and almost immediately took his leave. He
walked all the way to Chelsea, regarding nothing that he passed.
When he found himself in his lodgings he put a match to the
ready-laid fire, and presently made himself some tea. Then he sat
idly through the evening, for the most part staring into the glowing
coals, occasionally taking up a book for a few minutes, and throwing
it aside again with a sigh of weariness. As it got late he shivered
so with cold, in spite of the fire, that he had to sit in his
overcoat. When it was past midnight he began to pace the room,
making impatient gestures, and often resting his head upon his hands
as if it ached. It must have been about a quarter to one when there
was the sound of a vehicle pulling up in the street below, followed
by a knock at the door. Julian went down himself, and admitted Mr.
Woodstock.
"What can it mean?" he asked anxiously, when they had walked up to
the room together. "What has become of him?"
"Don't know. I stopped at his place on the way here."
"Don't you fear some mischance? With all that money--"
"Pooh! It's some absurd freak of his, I'll warrant.
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