"You mean—"
"There is small difference sometimes between a lover and a madman. Had I my fiddle with me I might play to you all that I mean."
Fellowes drummed with his fingers on the little table before him for a moment, and then seemed to shake himself out of a dream.
"There must be too few women in the world, Martin, when the desires of so many men are for one. To-morrow—what must be done to-morrow?"
"I shall see her to-morrow afternoon; until then I cannot tell what is to be done. A message will find you at your lodging?"
"Yes, I shall wait. If I do not hear, I shall make some excuse for being at Lady Bolsover's again in the evening."
Outside the coffee-house they separated. Where Martin went at nights Fellowes did not know, nor did he inquire. Fairley could find him, if necessary, and that was enough.
Neither did Barbara know where Martin lived, or she would surely have sent him a message next day, for long before noon she had made up her mind to act without delay.
The coming of Sir John was as ill-omened to her as it was to Martin. In some manner, she was convinced, his presence in London nearly concerned her, and much might depend on her promptness in carrying out the resolution she had made. So she awoke with a convenient headache, and had the news conveyed to her aunt. Then, assured that she would be left undisturbed, she dressed very carefully, anxious to look her best, and even practised her most winning smiles before her mirror. Her maid, who could be trusted and was a child of intrigue by nature, loyally assisted her mistress, and they were able to leave the house together without hindrance. Calling a coach, they were driven to the Temple, where Judge Marriott had his lodging. Barbara had determined to appeal to him. If he would, he certainly could save Gilbert Crosby, and, if she hoped so to entreat him that the reward he asked for his help should not be too heavy, she was prepared to pay whatever price he demanded. In imagination she saw herself his wife, and though she shuddered at the thought she never contemplated stopping the coach and going back to St. James's Square, her mission unfulfilled.
"Judge Marriott has left London," said the servant when Barbara inquired for him.