"This is getting too deep for me, Wedron," says O'Meara, when the door has closed behind Constance. "What does it lead up to? For I take it your tactics mean something."
Mr. Wedron laughs a low, mellow laugh.
"Things are shaping themselves to my liking," he says, rubbing his hands briskly. "We are almost done floundering, O'Meara. Thanks to Miss Wardour, I know where to put my hand when the right time comes."
"I don't understand."
"You will very soon. Now hear a prophecy: Before to-morrow night, Clifford Heath will send for you, and lay before you a plan for his defence. He will manifest a sudden desire to live."
CHAPTER XXXVI.
TWO PASSENGERS WEST.
Late that night a man is walking slowly up and down the little footpath that leads from the highway, just opposite Mapleton, down to the river and close past that pretty, white boat house belonging to the Lamotte domain.
He is very patient, very tranquil in his movements, and quite unconscious that, crouched in the shadow, not far away, a small figure notes his every action.