"I am sorry to have disturbed you, and will
not detain you from your friends."
And then the question flashed upon him--_Was she there?_ No; that would be
too daring. Any other refuge she might seek; but surely not this.
George Fairfax had flung the door wide open in coming out. Mr. Granger
saw the dainty bachelor room, with its bright pictures shining in the
lamp-light, and two young men in evening-dress lolling against the
mantelpiece. The odours of an elaborate dinner were also perceptible. The
valet had told the truth. Daniel Granger murmured some vague excuse, and
departed.
"Queer!" muttered Mr. Fairfax as he went back to his friends.
"I'm afraid the man is going off his head; and yet he seemed cool enough
to-day."
From the Champs Elysees Mr. Granger drove to the Rue du Chevalier Bayard.
There was another possibility to be considered: if Austin the painter were
indeed Austin Lovel, as George Fairfax had asserted, it was possible that
Clarissa had gone to him; and the next thing to be done was to ascertain
his whereabouts. The ancient porter, whom Mr. Granger had left the night
before in a doubtful and bewildered state of mind, was eating some savoury
mess for his supper comfortably enough this evening, but started up
in surprise, with his spectacles on his forehead, at Mr. Granger's
reappearance.
"I want to know where your lodger Mr. Austin went when he left here?" Mr.
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