“When, then?”
“After you have seen James Barron.”
“Seen him? Meet that man again?” cried Stratton, with a look of horror.
“Yes.”
“Impossible!”
“No; it is my wish—my prayer. Come with me and see him. Then you shall decide what should be done; and I give you my word that I will follow out your wishes to the letter.”
“You promise that?”
Brettison gave him his hand in token of his promise, and Stratton stood thinking for a moment or two.
“Yes,” he said then, “I have no cause to fear. It is cowardly to refuse. When shall the meeting be?”
“To-morrow.”