"Of Tom Heriot."
Should I tell Lord Level? Perhaps there was no help for it. When he had asked me before I had known nothing positively; now I knew only too much.
"Why I should have it, I know not; but a conviction lies upon me that he has found his way back to London," he continued. "Charles, you look conscious. Do you know anything?"
"You are right. He is here, and I have seen him."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Lord Level, throwing himself back in his chair. "Has he really been mad enough to come back to London?"
Drawing my own chair nearer to him, I bent forward, and in low tones gave him briefly the history. I had seen Tom on the Monday and Tuesday nights, as already related to the reader. On the Thursday night I was again at the trysting-place, but Tom did not meet me. The previous night, Friday, I had gone again, and again Tom did not appear.
"Is he taken, think you?" cried Lord Level.
"I don't know: and you see I dare not make any inquiries. But I think not. Had he been captured, it would be in the papers."
"I am not so sure of that. What an awful thing! What suspense for us all! Can nothing be done?"
"Nothing," I answered, rising, for my time was up. "We can only wait, and watch, and be silent."