Chapter XX
Underhand
"Le doute empoisonne tout et ne tue rien."
As I walked through the park towards Isabella's house on the evening of the dinner-party, Devar's hansom cab dashed past me and stopped a few yards farther on. The man must have had sharp eyes to recognise me in a London haze on a November evening. Devar leapt from his cab and came towards me.
"Shall I walk with you or will you drive with me?" he said.
Placed between two evil alternatives, I suggested that it would be better for his health to walk with me—hoping, although it was a dry night, that his shiny boots were too precious or tight for such exercise. Mr. Devar, however, made a sign to the groom to follow, and slipped his hand engagingly within my arm.
"Glad of the chance of a walk," he said. "Wish I was a free man like you, Howard, London would not often see me!"
"What would?" I asked, for I like to know where vermin harbours.