He breakfasted substantially, and left by the train appointed.
Arrived at Polterham, after a walk up and down the nearest streets
and an inspection of the party placards, he asked his way to the
shop of Mr. Ridge, bookseller. At once he was directed thither.
"So far so good," he said to himself. "It seems pretty certain that
Marks has not misled me. Shall I go into this shop, and play the
trick that was recommended? I think it is hardly worth while. Better
to inquire for Quarrier's house, and have a look at it."
He did so, and--it may be mentioned--on his way passed the doors
of the church in which at that moment Glazzard was being married. At
about half-past ten he was in sight of the high wall surrounding
Quarrier's garden; he approached the gate, and cautiously took a
view of what was within, then walked to a little distance.
His wife had not done badly for a little country girl. Whilst _he_
prowled about the streets with his burden of disgrace, his blank
future, Lilian sat at her ease in a mansion--doubtless had her
carriages, perhaps her livened servants--associated with important
people. After all, there was something to be said for that appeal to
the magistrate, with its consequence of scandal, ruin, to these
people who thought themselves so secure from him. He recovered his
mood of last night.
"Boy!"--an errand-lad was just passing--"whereabouts is the
Court-house?"
He was bidden take a turning within sight and go straight on for
about half a mile.
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