The old man had carried the letter he received to Lucy, giving it to her at dinner-time, while Mrs Hardon was lying down; and then furtively watched the eager looks, the flushing cheeks, and tear-wet eyes, as the reader devoured the contents.
“You’ll be here to-night, Mr Space?” said Lucy, looking up. “You’ll go with me?”
“Old Matt Space, miss, is your humble servant, and he’ll do what you tell him; but he don’t like that at all. He don’t like secrets;” and the old man pointed to the note. “Why not tell her?” and he nodded towards the inner room.
“No, no,” whispered Lucy hurriedly.
“All right, miss, all right. I’ll be here at seven. Be taken bad, I suppose, and slip off for an hour.” And at the appointed time the old man hurried from the office where he was employed, at the great risk of being told that he would be wanted no more, and accompanied Lucy to where in the dusk of evening, she stood talking to the dark, showily-dressed woman, whose agitated, mobile countenance made the paint upon her cheeks look weird and strange. She had hold tightly of Lucy’s hand, and more than once old Matt saw her kiss it fondly, clinging to it as if it were her last hold upon innocence and purity.
Twice during their interview the old man advanced, signing that it was time they went, by many a hasty jerk with his thumb; but the appealing looks he encountered sent him muttering back to his former post beneath a lamp, where he stood watching uneasily.
And old Matt had something to watch, too; for twice he saw the villainously-countenanced Mr Jarker slink by on the opposite side of the way, trying very hard to appear ignorant of a meeting taking place, but failing dismally, for from time to time his head was turned in the direction, besides which many a passer-by paused to gaze, with something like effrontery, upon the sweet, candid face of Lucy, while more than one seemed disposed to turn back. All this troubled the old man, and made him redouble his watchfulness as he walked a little nearer to the speakers; but he did not see that, some fifty yards down the street, standing in a doorway, there was another watcher, from beneath whose broad white brow a pair of keen grey eyes were fixed uneasily upon the group, with a troubled, puzzled expression.
“God—God bless you!” whispered the woman; “you must go now, my darling!” just as a well-dressed man sauntered back, cigar in hand, and, slightly stooping, addressed some observation to the startled girl; when old Matt, who had been watching his movements and followed close behind, suddenly shouldered him on one side, and so vigorously, that he stepped into the road to save himself from falling. Then there was a shout from a passing cabman, a half-uttered cry, and the daintily-dressed lounger was rubbing the marks of a muddy wheel from his dark trousers, while old Matt, with a gruff “Come along, miss!” drew Lucy’s arm through his own, and with a short, sharp nod to her companion, marched her off.
But Matt did not turn back to see the next change in the scene, or he might have looked upon Mr William Jarker crossing the road and speaking to the dark woman, who replied fiercely and shortly, as she turned from him in an abrupt manner, but only to return and say a few words quietly ere she hurried off. Then the city dandy, recovered from his fright, followed the steps of old Matt and Lucy, till a firm hand was laid upon his shoulder, when turning, he encountered the calm, fixed gaze of a man of some one- or two-and-thirty, dressed as a clergyman.
“Stand back, sir, or I give you into custody for insulting that young lady,” he said, in quiet, hard, measured tones.