“Does Long John want me so soon?” he asked.
“He wants you to-night. We have an important meeting at our club to-night, and it is absolutely necessary that you should be present.”
Rowton stood quite still, a frown between his thick brows. Presently it cleared away.
“I am at your service,” he said.
Scrivener was evidently relieved at this sudden acquiescence.
“That is a good thing,” he said. “I was commissioned to bring you with or against your will. When you submit to the inevitable you make things far easier for us. I’ll get straight back to Pitstow Station and take the next train to town. The meeting is appointed for eleven o’clock to-night—you’ll be sure to be there? You won’t play us false?”
“No, I shall come up to town by your train. Go, Scrivener, I don’t want people to see you about.”
“As you please,” said the man; “but I expect folks round here will have to get accustomed to me. I am thinking of taking lodgings in the neighbourhood.”
“You are not?”
“Yes, I am. The air is wonderfully bracing, and I have been feeling rather pulled down lately. Well, good-day, I am sorry, sir, you have not got a job for me on the premises.”