"Here is one of them," replied Hetherwick, indicating Rhona. "They're safe. You'll hear all about it later. But this business—what do you make of Matherfield's wire? Has he failed?"
"I'll tell you what I make of it," answered Robmore. "I think you'll find that Baseverie is on the train, with Matherfield and Quigman in close attendance. For some reason of his own, Matherfield means to arrest Baseverie here—here! That's how I figure it. They've seen Baseverie there and decided to follow him back to town. As soon as that train's in——"
A sudden, sharp exclamation from Rhona interrupted him and made both men turn to her. She clutched Hetherwick's arm, at the same time pointing with the other hand across the space behind them.
"Baseverie—himself!" she said. "There—under that clock! See! He's going towards the gates!"
With a swift and unceremonious gesture Robmore laid a hand on Rhona's shoulder, twisted her round and drew her amongst a group of bystanders.
"Keep out of sight, miss!" he muttered. "He'll know you! Now, again—which man. That with the pale face and high hat? I see him. Good to remember, too. All right! Stop here, you two. If he moves in this direction, Mr. Hetherwick, move away anywhere. Wait!"
Robmore slipped away. A moment later they saw him speak to a couple of quiet-looking men, who presently glanced at Baseverie. Hetherwick was watching Baseverie, too. Baseverie, quiet, unconcerned, evidently wholly unsuspicious, had taken up a position at the exit through which the Southampton passengers must emerge; he was smoking a cigar, placidly, with obvious appreciation.
"You're certain that's the man?" whispered Hetherwick.
"Baseverie? Positive!" declared Rhona. "As if I could mistake him! I've too good reason to remember his whole appearance. But—here! Daring!"
"Well," said Hetherwick, "something's going to happen! Keep back—keep well back! We can see things from here without being seen. If he caught sight of you——"