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Updated: July 1, 2025
The door was opened for her by a weary-looking youth in a striped jacket several sizes too large for him. The rest of his attire was nondescript. "Does Mr. Courtlaw, Mr. Sydney Courtlaw, live here, please?" Anna asked him. "Not home yet, miss," the young man replied. "Generally gets here about seven." Anna hesitated, and then held out the letter.
Everything was done in a genteel and ordinary way, but on the other hand, there was no lingering. Anna found herself next Sydney Courtlaw, with his friend close at hand. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar.
"You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?" Anna hesitated. "Well, no," she answered. "To tell you the truth though, I am quite a stranger in London, and it occurred to me that Mr. Courtlaw might have been able to give me an idea where to stop." The lady in black satin looked at the pile of luggage outside and hesitated.
"Is my sister's Christian name, then, of so much importance to you?" she asked with a faint smile. "The things involved in it are," he answered gravely. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. Courtlaw opened his lips, but remained silent in the face of her imperative gesture. "Let me hasten," she said, "to reassure you. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake.
"There is one thing I must concentrate on at the moment," she told herself, "and that is how to pay my next week's bill to Mrs. White. It ought not to be much. I have gone without dinner for three nights, and come in." Sydney Courtlaw followed his timid knock. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. "Is this a concession to Mrs.
Admire her as much as you choose at a distance. No more. Look at me. You knew me in Paris. David Courtlaw. Well-balanced, sane, wasn't I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I'm pretty near being one now, and it's her fault. I've loved her for two years, I love her now. And I'm off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the Atlantic I'll thank the Lord for it."
He was bereft of words for a moment, and in that moment she escaped, having passed him on deftly to one of the later arrivals. "Lady Mackinnor," she said, "I am sure that you must have heard of Mr. David Courtlaw. Permit me to make him known to you Mr. Courtlaw Lady Mackinnor."
For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life.
She seemed unmoved, but she did not look at him. "To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?" "I do not know," he answered, "but I am going to see David Courtlaw." Then she looked up at him with frightened eyes. "David Courtlaw!" she repeated. "What has he to do with it?" "He was your sister's master her friend. A few days ago I saw him leave your house.
He strode away and vanished in the gathering fog. Ennison stood still for a moment, swinging his latchkey upon his finger. Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. "I'm d d if I understand this," he said thoughtfully. "I never saw Courtlaw with her never heard her speak of him. He was going to tell me something and he shut up.
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