Barney needed all his pity and the sight of him on the following Sunday evening, as he appeared on his threshold, would have exorcised for Oldmeadow, if Mrs. Chadwick had not already done so, the memory of the pale, drowning face. He looked like a dog that has been beaten for a fault it cannot recognize. There was bewilderment in his eyes and acceptance, and a watchful humility. To see them there made Oldmeadow angry.
Barney had sent a line to say that he was back; but his friend had been prepared not to see him. Once engulfed in the house of mourning it was but too likely that he would not emerge for many days. And besides, what would Barney have to say to him now? But here he was, with his hollow eyes and faded cheeks, and it was with an echo of his old boyish manner of dropping in when beset by some perplexity that, without speaking, he crossed the room and sank on the sofa by the fireplace. But he had not come to seek counsel or sustainment. Oldmeadow saw that, as, after he had offered cigarettes, which Barney refused, and lighted his own pipe, he walked to and fro and watched him while Barney watched the flames. He had not come with a purpose at all. It was, again, precisely like the unhappy dog who wanders forth aimlessly, guided merely by a dim yearning towards warmth and kindliness. Barney had come where he would be understood. But it was not because he believed himself to be misunderstood that he came.
"I went to Coldbrooks, first, you know," he said presently, and with an effect of irrelevance. "I thought I'd find Mother there. So it was only on that Thursday night I got back here. None of the wires caught me."
"I know," said Oldmeadow. "It was most unfortunate. But you couldn't have got back sooner, could you, once you'd gone on from Paris."
"Not possibly. I went on from Paris that very night, you see. I caught the night express to the Riviera. They'd left Cannes as an address, but when I got there I found they'd moved on to San Remo. It was Tuesday before I found them. My one idea was to find them as soon as possible, of course. No; I suppose it couldn't be helped; once I'd gone."
"And it was quite useless? You'd no chance with Meg at all?"
"None whatever. Quite useless. Never was such a wild-goose chase. It was exactly as Adrienne had said."
