"Oh! very well; queer places these fellows put up in. By the way, I have had another report of our mutual acquaintance, Lambert. He is at St. Louis, and has changed his name for the third or fourth time."
"Indeed! then you must have had a telegram?"
"Yes, that is, our friends, Claude and Co., have communicated theirs to me. If Lambert begins to try concealment we'll find out something."
"I trust we shall," said Glynn mechanically, his eyes greedily following the two figures, lamp after lamp shedding its light upon them as they passed.
"Will he never go?" he thought, quivering with excitement.
It was an extraordinary situation to be thus dogging the footsteps of the quarry you wished to preserve from your fellow-hunter, and yet to be unavoidably leading that hunter on her track.
"I fancy you don't want me," said Deering at last. "If so——"
"Why should you think I do not?" interrupted Glynn, nervously afraid to betray his burning anxiety to be rid of him.
"I can't exactly tell why," said Deering, laughing, "but I am sure I am right."
"Well, do whichever you like," said Glynn with well-assumed indifference,—"come on with me to Tottenham Court Road, where you will be sure to find plenty of cabs, or pick up the first empty one we fall in with, and leave me to my fate."