"I was on the point of asking him why," said Lake. "Whether I should have had a satisfactory answer, I cannot say; I should think he could not give one; but we were interrupted. Miss Betsy Lee came in."
"Who? What?" I cried, starting from my chair.
"The young lady you told me of who lives in Lambeth—Miss Betsy Lee. Sit down, Charley. She came over to bring him a pot of jelly."
"Then he has let those people know where he is, Lake! Is he mad?"
"Mad as to carelessness," assented Lake. "I tell you Tom Heriot's not like other people."
"He will leave himself no chance."
"She seems to be a nice, modest little woman," said Lake; "and I'll go bail her visit was quite honest and proper. She had made this jelly, she told Tom, and she and her father hoped it would serve to strengthen him, and her father sent his respects, and hopes to hear that Captain Strange was feeling better."
"Well, Lake, the matter will get beyond me," I said in despair. "Only a word dropped, innocently, by these people in some dangerous quarter, and where will Tom be?"
"That's just it," said Lake. "Policeman Wren is acquainted with them."
"Did you leave the girl there?"