Gregory Staines hated to part with so much money, for every penny it cost him to preserve his liberty made him think that his crime had not brought him a life whose pleasures were equivalent to the penalties exacted from him. But he reflected that he would never be safe while so determined an enemy lived, and resolved upon what he deemed a last sacrifice.
“Very well,” he said at last, “you shall have what you ask. But mind you don’t hit the wrong man, and watch the dog. Your best plan will be to wait until you see us go out together, and then watch your chance. If necessary, I will help you, for it’s about time this game was ended.”
A few more arrangements were made, the hired assassin received half his fee, and Mr. Staines returned to his intended victim, remarking: “What a nuisance duns are! I owed that fellow a few shillings, and he had the impudence to insist upon being paid to-night.”
“That’s the worst of dealing with common people,” said Mr. Bootle, carelessly. “But we have talked over all preliminaries about our supper party, and about the pigeon whom we intend to pluck. On Wednesday night you must be in good trim, as Danvers is sure to bring a lot of money with him.”
“And where are you off to now?”
“To my lodgings.”
“Do you mean to take the dog with you?”
“No, I think he had better be sent home. He will be able to find Miss Stratton, and to-morrow I shall hear from her. She knows where to write to.”
“I have a better plan than that. Miss Stratton has come to stay at the house I am in. Come with me, and see her this evening. It is not yet late.”
This plan was readily agreed to, and the two set out together, each knowing the other to be plotting his safety, and each warily watching his companion’s every movement, the dog being quite as watchful as his companions.