CHAPTER XVI
THE FUGITIVES DISGUISED IN LONDON
Hurrying along a narrow street, are three men, two abreast, and one following apparently unconcerned, but closely watching each movement. Turning into a dark alley, the pair disappear down a rickety stairway. Their "shadow" passes across to a small one-story cabin, with single-light window, commanding a view of that cellar entrance.
Pierre and Paul Lanier, newly disguised, again are in London. Since their departure from Calcutta, these villains had wandered, making brief stays at various points, always disguised, never without haunting fears. Different aliases had been assumed, each new departure having been most adroitly maneuvered. It seems impossible that such crafty covering of their doubling trails can baffle pursuit, yet each shrewd move sharpens apprehension by suggestions of new dangers. This growing bewilderment and stress of fear had kept them moving in uncertain rounds, varied by occasional abrupt tangents, until within zone of most heinous crimes, when drawn by that gravity existent between the criminal and the venue of his offense, both had landed in London, fearful for the future, without any decisive purposes or settled convictions as to their lines of action.
Sir Donald and Esther were absent from England, but Pierre learned that they had sailed from Calcutta months before. William Dodge had been released from prison, going somewhere unknown to either Lanier. That this formerly subservient assistant in crime is now a foe, they cannot doubt. The desperate, treacherous assault upon husband and wife in Calcutta ended all hope of further coöperation between them and their would-be murderers. Just what line of investigation is being pressed they only can conjecture. Further scheming to silence any of their pursuers would not do.
It is sure that there has been no discovery of either Thames victim. This tragedy is only a reminiscence in London, but that horrible Bombay tableau and the mysterious disappearance of Agnes Randall can neither be forgotten nor explained.
Both Laniers are most intensely superstitious and fearful of intangible attack. However, there is a more or less fixed resolve to abate no strictness of disguises, while keeping advised of London happenings, prepared for any desperate emergency.
Pierre never leaves the city, but Paul, thoroughly disguised, makes occasional visits in the vicinity of Northfield.
Neither Sir Donald nor Esther has returned. By guarded questions Paul learns nothing as to their present whereabouts.
That lake exerts a strange fascination upon Paul's fancy. Extended strolls along the Thames are frequent. Hours are spent near that rustic seat. Often bending over the bank, Paul peers up and down and across the river. Sometimes he rows for miles, carefully examining each projecting branch or shrub, furtively watching all intruders upon his strange search. This occupation grows more absorbing. Moonlight strolls and boat-rides are frequent. Paul insists on night shifts, and that his father then shall remain at their room.