The resolve once taken, Marston determined to lose no time, lest he should repent.
But he, who in the old time had entered on many a scheme of villainy with a light heart, actually hesitated and grew nervous about such a trifle as putting a dangerous foe out of the Way.
‘Is my punishment already beginning?’ he cried, later on, as he looked at his pale face in the glass.. ‘Am I never to be free from the hideous nightmare of the past?’
He paced the room, not with his old bold, firm stride, but with rapid, uncertain steps. He kept glancing at the clock nervously, and listening, as though he expected a visitor.
It was just on eight o’clock, and the gas was alight in the dining-room of Eden Villa. A mass of papers was on the table before him. He had been going into his future plans, making calculations and directing letters. But the papers were all confusion. He had been unable to settle down; an hour ago he had pushed his work aside and begun to pace the room. That was seven o’clock, and he did not anticipate a visitor till eight, yet he was in a fever of expectation.
As the clock struck there was a knock at the door. Marston hurried out into the hall and opened it himself. He returned with a gentleman whose complexion was dark, and whose nose was of the kind known as ‘hook.’
For an hour Mr. Preene sat and conversed with the master of Eden Villa. They talked in a low tone. Marston’s voice trembled and his face was stern and white.
‘For both our sakes you must do it, Preene. I assure you my information’s right.’
‘I can’t think it,’ answered Preene. ‘How the deuce could he blow on us without letting himself in?’
‘The reward is big, and it’s payable to any person not being the actual perpetrator.’