“I went out for a walk,” said, Marlowe, “and didn’t know how time was passing, having no watch with me.”
“You must like walking in the dark better than I do.”
“I wasn’t walking all the time,” said Marlowe. “I had some business on my mind, and went out to think it over. Who was that young fellow that came about six o’clock.
“Julius Taylor. He’s from Brookville. Do you wish to know him? If so, I will introduce you to him.”
“I only asked from curiosity,” said Marlowe, carelessly.
“His room is next to yours, No. 8. Yours is No. 7.”
This was what Marlowe wanted to know, and he heard the information with satisfaction. He proposed to make Julius a visit that night. What might be the result he did not stop to consider. He only knew that this was the boy to whom he owed two years of imprisonment, and that he would have him in his power. He did not ask himself what he should do. He did not consider whether he was about to endanger his own safety, and expose himself to the risk of recapture. His spirit was fierce and revengeful, and he had made up his mind to gratify it.
He called for a light, and ascended the staircase to his room, No. 7. He noticed the number over the door which Julius occupied, and outside he saw a pair of shoes, which had been left to be blacked.{209}
“He’s been prospering,” he said to himself, gloomily, “while Jack and me have been shut up. He’s had a good home, and good fare, and grown up to consider himself a gentleman; while me and Jack, that brought him up, have been confined like wild beasts. That’s his pay for selling us to the cops. But the end is not yet. Marlowe’s on his track, and this night there’ll be a reckoning.”
He sat down on the side of the bed and waited. He wanted to make sure that all were asleep in the inn, that he might carry out his dark designs without interruption.{210}