“Mr. Grahame” he said in a whisper, and added, with a grin—“Would you like to see ‘im? he’s in the libree.”
Charles shook his head with a degree of energy indicative of the strength of the negative he wished to convey, and slipped a shilling into the hand of Whelks as an additional contribution; it happened to be a new one, felt thick and crisp; Whelks slid it into his pocket under the impression that it was a sovereign.
He laid his finger upon the side of his nose.
“I shall know you when you come again, sir,” he whispered. “If she’s at home, sir, you shall see her. Foller me, sir. Tread lightly. Good night.”
Charley stood once more in the park alone. The stars shone brightly above him. He had certainly met with a remarkable adventure, but where was Lotte.
He was no nearer to the object with which he came there than he was before.
CHAPTER XIV.—REVENGE.
I’ll have my bond; I will not hear thee speak.