“Why, to tell you the truth——but come along farther away from the lamps——to tell you the truth, as I was jogging quietly down Sloane Street just now,” continued Rily, glancing furtively around, “some one, coming hastily up from a narrow street on the right-hand side, passed just in front of me. We almost ran against each other, and I caught a glimpse of the fellow’s countenance——”
“Who was he?” asked Mrs. Mortimer, shuddering in anticipation of the reply.
“Vitriol Bob,” was the answer.
“I thought you were going to say so,” exclaimed the old woman. “But perhaps he did not notice you—and even if he did, I suppose you are not afraid that he will attempt any mischief?”
“Whether he noticed me or not, I can’t say,” replied the Doctor; “because the encounter was so abrupt—so sudden—that he was off again in an instant. But if he did, I am well aware that he is capable of anything. However, I don’t mean to let that prey upon my mind, I can tell you.”
“And yet it does seem to have depressed you a little,” said Mrs. Mortimer.
“Well—I’d rather it shouldn’t have happened—that’s all!” ejaculated the ruffian, forcing himself to assume a gaiety which he did not altogether feel; for, though no coward, yet the incident of his meeting with his sworn foe in the manner described, had troubled him.
Doubtless the man’s mind, contemplating a diabolical crime, was more disposed to superstitious terrors, and to acknowledge the influence of presentiments, than on ordinary occasions: hence the vague uneasiness and undefined apprehensions that had seized upon him.
Mrs. Mortimer caught the dispiriting effects of the encounter which her confederate had experienced with one of the most desperate ruffians in London; and such a chill fell upon her mind, that she was about to propose the abandonment of the scheme, when Jack Rily suddenly exclaimed, “Well thought of! I’ve something in my pocket that will do us good!”
