Meanwhile, Miss Stratton excused herself to Mrs. Dollman, and announced her intention of spending the evening in her room, as she had a great many letters to write. Arrived there, she found plenty to occupy her for half an hour. At the end of that time Mrs. Twiley came to her by prearrangement, and was utterly astonished to watch the metamorphosis effected in her appearance while she was there.
“Why, you make me feel inclined to run away again,” she laughed. “It’s dreadfully compromising to be here alone with you. Suppose a servant, or one of the other boarders saw me, the consequences would be awful! My reputation would be gone, and poor, dear Twiley’s only consolation would be a divorce. But, seriously, it is wonderful to think of all you have done and are doing for the sake of your lover. I hope you will be successful in all your plans, and some day I expect the pleasure of seeing Mr. Riddell enjoying liberty and happiness once more.”
“Thank you so much,” said the lady addressed, who was, to all appearances, a man again, to wit, Mr. Bootle, “Whenever that happy day arrives, believe me, I shall esteem it a sacred duty to bring him to see all who have helped us in our dark days.”
“In fact, you will come here for your honeymoon.”
“Honeymoon! I dare not think of such happiness while he is languishing in prison. See, would you like to judge how he looked only a year ago?”
As she spoke, the girl handed a photograph of a handsome, smiling young fellow to her visitor, at which the latter gazed with a mist gathering in her eyes.
“And this,” she was next told, “is the brother who has been foully murdered.”
It struck Mrs. Twiley that the brother was even a nobler type of manhood than the unfortunate lover, but she had too much tact to betray that opinion, though she looked long and earnestly at the lineaments of one who was supposed to have come to so sad an end.
Then the whole of the evening’s intended work was gone over again in detail, not an item being overlooked that could conduce to either success or failure. Everything being at length arranged, Mrs. Twiley rejoined her sister, and “Mr. Bootle” prepared to sally forth on her evening’s adventures, of which she by no means underestimated the possible peril. But the courage engendered by devotion to others transcends all other courage in its nobility and strength, and not the faintest twinge of fear assailed our heroine, as, feeling added security in her capital disguise, she told Briny to remain on guard, and stepped out of the window into the garden, whence she presently emerged into the lane, and thence into the open street.
But what was that dark object creeping in her footsteps, and dodging nearer and nearer to her? It was no friend, that is certain, as he would not have slunk out of sight so promptly every time that there was any likelihood of his being observed. Had “Mr. Bootle” looked round, he, or she, if the reader prefers, might possibly have seen a mortal enemy, armed with a knife, and carefully watching his opportunity for removing the one whom he feared.