Could it be the same Edward Marston?
Ruth firmly believed that it was. It seemed as though Providence had shaped events so that she might read the paper, and thus find at once a means of communication with the man she wished to save.
Perhaps, after all, the conversation Gertie had heard was connected with this very chcque. It might have been stolen from him by Heckett and his companions.
She went downstairs and questioned Gertie, who with Lion at her feet, sat in a Windsor chair, timidly regarding the two servants, who eyed her in return with ill-concealed suspicion. Gertie assured Ruth that she had heard a plan for getting the gentleman out of the way discussed, and that one of the men had said, ‘We must make London too hot to hold him.’
Ruth easily allowed herself to be convinced that Marston was in real danger.
She determined to put her scruples on one side, and act at once.
She could trust no one with her secret. She would go herself. What harm could come of it? None. And the good that might result was incalculable.
Between ten and eleven Ruth, deeply veiled, rang the visitors’ bell at Eden Villa.
When the servant came to the door and asked her her business, she trembled, and felt inclined to run away.
Mustering all her courage, and speaking quickly, lest the girl should detect her agitation, she asked if Mr. Marston was within.