“I think that this should do,” said he, glancing into the glass above the fireplace.  “I only wish that you could come with me, Watson, but I fear that it won’t do.  I may be on the trail in this matter, or I may be following a will-o’-the-wisp, but I shall soon know which it is.  I hope that I may be back in a few hours.”  He cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard, sandwiched it between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this rude meal into his pocket he started off upon his expedition.

I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in excellent spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his hand.  He chucked it down into a corner and helped himself to a cup of tea.

“I only looked in as I passed,” said he.  “I am going right on.”

“Where to?”

“Oh, to the other side of the West End.  It may be some time before I get back.  Don’t wait up for me in case I should be late.”

“How are you getting on?”

“Oh, so so.  Nothing to complain of.  I have been out to Streatham since I saw you last, but I did not call at the house.  It is a very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for a good deal.  However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must get these disreputable clothes off and return to my highly respectable self.”

I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for satisfaction than his words alone would imply.  His eyes twinkled, and there was even a touch of colour upon his sallow cheeks.  He hastened upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the slam of the hall door, which told me that he was off once more upon his congenial hunt.

I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so I retired to my room.  It was no uncommon thing for him to be away for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that his lateness caused me no surprise.  I do not know at what hour he came in, but when I came down to breakfast in the morning there he was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other, as fresh and trim as possible.

“You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson,” said he, “but you remember that our client has rather an early appointment this morning.”

“Why, it is after nine now,” I answered.  “I should not be surprised if that were he.  I thought I heard a ring.”

It was, indeed, our friend the financier.  I was shocked by the change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter.  He entered with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful than his violence of the morning before, and he dropped heavily into the armchair which I pushed forward for him.

“I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried,” said he.  “Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without a care in the world.  Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age.  One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another.  My niece, Mary, has deserted me.”