For three hours that night the two friends, arm-in-arm, paced the empty
streets, saying little, brooding much, yet gaining courage at every
step. The touch of his guardian's arm thrilled Roger now and again with
a sensation of hope and relief in the midst of his dejection which
almost surprised him. He had lost his brother; but was not this man as
good as a brother to him? Would life be quite brotherless as long as he
remained at his side?
The tutor, for his part, experienced a strange emotion too. The opening
day had brought a crisis in his life as well as in that of his ward. It
was a day to which he had long looked forward, partly with the dread of
separation, partly with the joy of a man who has honestly done his work
and is about to render up his trust. But was it all over now? No
longer now was he a guardian or governor. Was he therefore to lose this
gallant comrade, to whom all the brotherhood in his nature went out?
With reflections such as these it is scarcely to be wondered at that
little was said during that long aimless walk.
At last Roger shivered.
"Let's turn in," said Mr Armstrong.
They were in a street off the Strand, a long way from their hotel, and
no cab in sight.
"Any place will do," said Roger. "Why not this?" and he pointed to the
door of a seedy-looking private hotel, over which a lamp burned with the
legend--"Night porter in attendance."