“Yes,” he said. “But Pradelle?”
“Is our enemy, Harry. Your evil genius.”
“No, no; he has been very kind.”
“For his own ends. There, go.”
He went off without a word; and after making the few trilling preparations necessary, Louise put on her hat and cloak, and waited impatiently for her brother’s return. An hour passed, which seemed like two, and then the blood mounted to her pale cheek, and she crossed towards the door ready to admit her brother, for there was a step upon the stair. She glanced round to see if she had forgotten anything, but there was nothing to do, save to pay the landlady, and then they would be free. She threw open the door as the step paused on the landing, and then she ran back with her lips apart, and a look of repugnance and dread in her eyes.
“Mr Pradelle!”
“Yes, Miss Louy, me it is, and you don’t look best pleased to see me.”
As she fell back he entered and closed the door.
“My brother is out, Mr Pradelle.”
He nodded, and stood smiling at her.