She shook her head. “I imagine if she came in the middle of the night—”
“Try not to imagine things, my dear. And I’ll just spend the night here. This couch will do. Ask your maid to knock me up at seven. And go straight off to bed yourself. How’s that?”
“Oh, you good brother!” she cried softly. “I was wondering how I was going to get through another night alone!”
Soon she retired, a little more hopeful, and ere long was in a sleep of sheer exhaustion.
But for Risk, wearied as he was, there was scarcely any rest. He was desperately anxious. He could not conceive of Symington daring actually to injure the girl; but what if the man struck at her through his other victim? Risk groaned at the thought. He went to the window, and threw it wide to the still, mild night. Ah, it was no longer a game he was engaged in, but a business most terribly serious, vital to the future peace of his soul. For he loved—no need to deny it to the stars—he loved Kitty Carstairs . . . and a lover’s insight had informed him that, sooner or later, her heart would turn to Colin Hayward, who had put faith and trust in him, who regarded him as benefactor, aye, and true friend. So he had his honour as well as his love to serve in smashing the enemy. Yet, had Colin not come to London, what might not have happened? . . .
At last he tore himself from the night and his sorry dreams, and lay down, not to sleep, but grimly to rehearse, in minutest detail, all that he had planned for the morrow. And every now and then he was interrupted by a Dread.
* * * * *
Another was rehearsing a plan that still, mild night. In a small room, furnished with odds and ends, sat Symington. The atmosphere was unpleasant with cigar reek and whisky fumes. Since his tremendous bout of dissipation the man had somehow failed to regain the mastery in respect of alcohol. Yet he was far from being intoxicated. Apart from the plan itself two things were especially clear to his intelligence. First, Zeniths had boomed to 8¼; second, he had less than £20 on hand. It would be necessary to convert another certificate into cash at the earliest moment possible. He was tempted to convert them all into cash at the present magnificent price; only greed to obtain yet more restrained him.
“Nothing for it,” he thought, “but to travel to-morrow night, after. . . Unless—why, the thing might be done to-night! No, no! Steady! Don’t be a fool and spoil everything by rushing it! If her mind is not sufficiently prepared, and if he doesn’t look sufficiently—” Breaking off, he rang the bell at the side of the fireplace.
The woman with the red, expressionless face answered the summons.