“I’ll not make a mistake this time,” was Vijal’s answer. And as he spoke his eyes gleamed, and again that baleful smile passed over his face.
“That’s the man,” said John. “You understand that? That’s the man you’ve got to fix, do you hear? Don’t be a fool this time. You must manage it to-night, for I don’t want to wait here forever. I leave it to you. I only came to make sure of the man. I’m tired, and I’m going to bed soon. When I wake to-morrow I expect to hear from you that you have finished this business. If you don’t, d—n you, I’ll wring your infernal nigger’s neck.”
“It will all be done by to-morrow,” said Vijal, calmly.
“Then clear out and leave me. I’m going to bed. What you’ve got to do is to watch that man.”
Vijal retired.
The night passed. When the following morning came John was not up at the ordinary breakfast hour. Nine o’clock came. Ten o’clock. Still he did not appear.
“He’s a lazy fellow,” said the landlord, “though he don’t look like it. And where’s his servant?”
“The servant went back to Brandon at day-break,” was the answer.
Eleven o’clock came. Still there were no signs of John. There was a balcony in the inn which ran in front of the windows of the room occupied by John. After knocking at the door once or twice the landlord tapped at the window and tried to peep in to see if the occupant was awake or not. One part, of the blind was drawn a little aside, and showed the bed and the form of a man still lying there.
“He’s an awful sleeper,” said the landlord. “It’s twelve o’clock, and he isn’t up yet. Well, it’s his business, not mine.”