For instance, on arriving at Dover, would he be likely to go to a good hotel?"
"He would go to the best," she answered. "He is not careful of money now, and I am sure he never could have been in the past."
"Then, if my surmise is correct," I said, "we are most likely to find him at the Lord Warden Hotel, which is, of course, the best in the town. Anyhow, it is worth while to go there first to make inquiries about him."
"Very well," she replied, in a submissive, hopeless kind of voice.
She had yielded herself up to my directions, but up to the present moment I had failed to inspire her with any faith in the success of my mission. She was evidently oppressed with the fear that Mainwaring had committed suicide, and seemed to think my conjecture about him impossible.
As we were walking to the hotel, she said, suddenly:—
"If my husband is really out of his mind, we are ruined from a worldly point of view."
"I am sorry to hear that," I replied. "Have you no private means?"
"No," she answered. "My husband had his profession, and he was doing good work as a barrister. But there is no profession in the world which requires greater brain power than his. We have nothing to live on except what my husband earns."
"In case Mr. Mainwaring cannot earn money for a time, have you no relations who will help you?" I asked.
She shook her head.
"We have no relations who will help us," she said. "It is true that my husband's father is still living—he is an old man, a clergyman. He has a small parish, and with difficulty makes both ends meet. It would be impossible to expect assistance from him." She sighed heavily as she spoke. Then she continued, with a naïveté which touched me: "Even at this terrible moment I cannot help thinking of the children, and of how they will suffer if our worst fears are fulfilled."
"Well," I said, in a cheerful tone, "we must hope for the best. The first thing is to find your husband. After that we must consider what is best to be done for him."
"Oh, can anything be done?" she asked, in a tone of supplication.
"We will see," I replied.
We arrived at the hotel and made inquiries. The name of Mainwaring was not in the visitors' book.
"That is nothing," I said, turning to Mrs. Mainwaring; "will you please describe your husband to the manager?"
She did so, entering into a minute and faithful description.
"A tall gentleman, broadly made, with a slight stoop," repeated the manager after her. "He wears glasses, does he not, madam?"
"Sometimes, not always," she replied.
"Has he a pince-nez which he puts on whenever he wants to ask a question?" continued the manager.
Mrs. Mainwaring turned crimson.
"Yes, yes," she exclaimed, "then he is here! Dr. Halifax, you are right."
The manager asked further questions.
"A great many gentlemen wear glasses," he said. "I should like to be quite certain that madam's husband is really one of the visitors before I disturb any of them. The hour is late too, close on eleven o'clock, and a good many of the guests have gone to their rooms. About what age is the gentleman whom you want to find, madam?"
"He looks nearly forty," she replied at once, "although he is not in reality nearly so old. His hair is dark and slightly tinged with grey."
The manager called one of the waiters and spoke a few words to him. He then returned to us.
"I think," he said, "that there is a gentleman here who answers to madam's description, but I cannot find his name. Through an oversight it has not been entered in the visitors' book. The hotel is very full this evening. The gentleman who answers to your description," he continued, looking at Mrs. Mainwaring, "is occupying No. 39. Do you think you would know him by his boots?"
"Certainly," she replied.
"Then they are probably at this moment outside his door. I will have them fetched, and you can look at them. Will you have the goodness to step inside the office, Mrs. Mainwaring, and you too, please, sir?"
I gave the manager my card, and told him that I was Mrs. Mainwaring's medical adviser. He motioned us to chairs, and in a short time a waiter appeared with a pair of boots on a tray.
"I have just taken these from outside the door of No. 39," he said, holding them up for inspection.
A glance told me that they belonged to a large, but well-shaped foot. Mrs. Mainwaring rushed forward, gave utterance to a rejoicing cry, and picked them up.
"These are undoubtedly Edward's boots," she exclaimed. "Yes, he is here. Thank the merciful God we have found him!"
