‘Dear Bess, do what this gentleman tells you. Bring enough for a day or two’s journey and come to me at once. Don’t be frightened. It’s only a matter of business.’
‘Take this,’ he said, giving it to his unknown friend; ‘and tell me where to go.’
‘Go to some railway station.’
‘Waterloo?’ said George. ‘Will that do?’
‘Capitally! Your wife shall be at Waterloo in a couple of hours. Say the booking-office. Main line. If you’ll take my advice you’ll leave the country till this affair is over. Mind, whatever happens, you must not blab about me giving you the tip. It would ruin me. Swear!’
‘I give you my word of honour as a gentleman,’ stammered the agonized man. ‘I owe you more than I can ever repay.’
‘I’m satisfied,’ said the dark man. ‘I can see you are a gentleman, and your word is enough.’
With a parting admonition to George to ‘keep his pecker up and show a clean pair of heels,’ the mysterious friend turned on his heel and walked rapidly away, leaving the young man in a state of mind almost impossible to describe.
Mortification, rage, shame, all struggled for mastery in his breast, and all gave way before the horror with which he contemplated the consequences to the girl he had brought from her happy home and wedded in secret, should he be arrested and charged with being one of a gang of swindlers. He was innocent, he knew; but to prove it he would have to drag his honoured name through the mire; he would have to proclaim to the world the whole story of his debts and difficulties, his quarrels with his father, and his runaway marriage with a lodge-keeper’s daughter.
No, he couldn’t face that. It might be cowardly, but once he had Bess safe in his keeping again, he would take the detective’s advice and avoid scandal by timely flight.