Johanna darted from the shop, and the moment she got clear of it, she by natural impulse drew the little slip of paper from her pocket, and read upon it—
"Miss O. do not if you can help it leave any one alone in Todd's shop, as circumstances may prevent us from always following his customers in; but if you should be forced to leave while any one is there, knock at No. 133 Fleet Street. This is from your friend R. B."
"133?" said Johanna, as she glanced around her, "133? Ah, it is close at hand. Here—here."
The number was only a short distance from Todd's, and Johanna was making her way to it, when some one stopped her.
"From Todd's," said a voice.
"Yes—yes. A man is there."
"Alone?"
"Yes, and—"
Before she could say another word the stranger darted from her, and made his way into Todd's shop. Johanna paused, and shrinking into a doorway, stood trembling like an aspen leaf.
"Oh, Heaven!" she ejaculated, "into what a sea of troubles have I plunged. Murder and I will become familiar, and I shall learn to breathe an atmosphere of blood. Oh, horror! horror! horror!"