FOR a couple of hours I walked on briskly, careless in what direction I
went, so long as I kept my back turned on Barkingham.

By the time I had put seven miles of ground, according to my
calculations, between me and the red-brick house, I began to look upon
the doctor's writing-desk rather in the light of an incumbrance, and
determined to examine it without further delay. Accordingly I picked up
the first large stone I could find in the road, crossed a common, burst
through a hedge, and came to a halt, on the other side, in a thick wood.
Here, finding myself well screened from public view, I broke open the
desk with the help of the stone, and began to look over the contents.

To my unspeakable disappointment I found but few papers of any kind
to examine. The desk was beautifully fitted with all the necessary
materials for keeping up a large correspondence; but there were not
more than half a dozen letters in it altogether. Four were on business
matters, and the other two were of a friendly nature, referring to
persons and things in which I did not feel the smallest interest. I
found besides half a dozen bills receipted (the doctor was a mirror of
punctuality in the payment of tradesmen), note and letter-paper of the
finest quality, clarified pens, a pretty little pin-cushion, two small
account-books filled with the neatest entries, and some leaves
of blotting-paper. Nothing else; absolutely nothing else, in the
treacherous writing-desk on which I had implicitly relied to guide me to
Alicia's hiding-place.