“Mr. Grant’s.”
“His life in danger?” Philip exclaimed, greatly surprised. “How do you know?”
Again the girl was silent. But after a minute she said: “You remember Tom Bendibow’s being here this afternoon.... You told him Mr. Grant was at Twickenham. He was coming home late. The road isn’t safe on a night like this, and he carried no arms.”
“Oh! then all you fear is that he may be attacked by footpads?” said Philip, feeling relieved. He had apprehended something more definite.
“I fear he will be attacked,” was her reply.
“But, in that case,” rejoined Philip, after a few moments’ reflection, “we ought to turn to the left. The road from Twickenham lies through Richmond.”
“We should not find him there,” said Marion. “He will come through Isleworth.”
“Did he tell you so?”
“No. I didn’t know that he was going to Twickenham until you said so.”
“Then why should you.... The Isleworth road is at least a mile longer.”