“I've promised that if Deede Dawson will bring me face to face with Rupert Dunsmore, I'll murder him,” answered Dunn, laughing softly.
“A fairly safe offer on your part, isn't it?” observed Walter. “At least, unless there's any saving clause about mirrors.”
“Oh, none,” answered Dunn. “I told Deede Dawson Rupert Dunsmore was my worst enemy, and that's true enough, for I think every man's worst enemy is himself.”
“I wish I had none worse,” muttered Walter.
“I think you haven't, old chap,” Dunn said smilingly. “But come across the road. It'll be safer on the common. Deede Dawson is so cunning one is never safe from him. One can never be sure he isn't creeping up behind.”
“Well, I daresay it's wise to take every precaution,” observed Walter. “But I can't imagine either him or any one else getting near you without your knowledge.”
Robert Dunn,—or rather, Rupert Dunsmore, as was his name by right of birth—laughed again to himself, very softly in the darkness.
“Perhaps not,” he said. “But I take no chances I can avoid with Deede Dawson. Come along.”
They crossed the road together and sat down on the common at an open spot, where none could well approach them unheard or unseen. Dunn laid his hand affectionately on Walter's shoulder as they settled themselves.
“Old chap,” he said. “It was good of you to come here. You've run some risk. It's none too safe near Bittermeads. But I'm glad to see you, Walter. It's a tremendous relief after all this strain of doubt and watching and suspicion to be with some one I know—some one I can trust—some one like you, Walter.”