They looked at me in blank protest.
“You're not going alone, sir?” cried Owens in a tone of alarm.
“Oh, no. But I shall not need a guard.” I hoped heartily that I did not.
The men shook their heads doubtfully, and I continued:
“Corson will be down from the Central Station in fifteen or twenty minutes. Just tell him that I've been sent for, and to come to-morrow if he can make it in his way.”
And bidding them good night I ran hastily down the stairs before any of the men could frame his protest into words.
“Are you ready, sir?” asked the messenger.
“It is close on half-past twelve,” I answered. “Where is she?”
“It's not far,” said my guide evasively.
I understood the danger of speech, and did not press for an answer.