Here he donned the new
hat, which did not fit very well, and a new black coat which fitted
so well that it seemed to cut into his large frame in every possible
direction, and departed, furiously struggling with a pair of gloves,
also new, for Grosvenor Street.
A quarter of an hour's walk, for he knew the road this time, brought him
to the house. Glancing for a while at the spot where he had stood on the
previous night, he walked up the steps and pulled the bell. Though
he looked bold enough outwardly--indeed, rather imposing than
otherwise--with his broad shoulders and the great scar on his bronzed
face, his breast was full of terrors. In these, however, he had not
much time to indulge, for a footman, still decked in the trappings of
vicarious grief, opened the door with the most startling promptitude,
and he was ushered upstairs into a small but richly furnished room.
Madeline was not in the room, though to judge from the lace handkerchief
lying on the floor by a low chair, and the open novel on a little wicker
table alongside, she had not left it long. The footman departed, saying,
in a magnificent undertone, that "her ladyship" should be informed, and
left our hero to enjoy his sensations.
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