“Plans and preparations could be made. The work must be done in the summer.”
Brownrig seemed to be thinking of something else, for when they came to the corner of the street, he stood still, looking out toward the sea. John paused also for a moment, but he grew impatient and moved on. All this time he had been saying to himself:
“In some way I must keep this man in sight through the day and through the night as well, as long as he shall stay in the town. If he were to see her now! If he were to follow her!”
John drew his breath hard at the thought.
There was a long stair to go up before Mr Swinton’s rooms could be reached, and when they came to the foot of it Brownrig paused.
“I am not quite myself this morning,” he said. “I’ll wait till later in the day before I try to see Mr Swinton again. There’s no special hurry.”
“You are not looking very well,” said John gravely. “It would be as wise for you to wait a while and refresh yourself. I’ll go with you a bit of the way.”
They went back together till they came to the door of the inn. John refused Brownrig’s invitation to enter, and left him there. Then he took his way to Robert’s lodgings. Robert had not returned.
“Can they be lingering yet?” said John to himself. “I must see that they are fairly away.”
In the street opposite the house where Mrs Esselmont had stayed, no carriage was standing. John slowly passed the house and turned again, waiting for a while. Then he went toward the office. Looking in at the inn parlour on his way thither, he saw Brownrig sitting with a friend. There were a bottle and glasses between them, and judging that he was “safe enough for the present,” John went to his work. Brownrig paid another visit to Mr Swinton the next day, but nothing was definitely arranged between them as to the work which was to be done, and in a day or two he went away.