“I have seen him. I think he knows we are here.”
“Who?” asked Everell.
“Filson. I happened to look out of my window—”
“Impossible! He couldn’t have followed so close.”
“He must have gained upon us toward nightfall, and arrived at the inn across the way a little while ago. I happened to glance out of my window just now—not putting my head out, but looking through the glass—and I saw four men standing under the lamp before that inn—the lamp over the entrance. Three of them were the soldiers we saw in the yard. The other was Filson. He was talking with the soldiers, and he and they were looking at this house. I am sure they were telling him we had come here.”
“Did they see you?”
“I think not. They weren’t looking at my window when I first saw them, and after that I watched from behind the curtain.”
“Well, then, he knows we are here. The fellow who carried our luggage across would have told the soldiers we failed to get horses. I should have taken some pains to cover our track. We are too easily described. I might have known Filson would inquire before even entering the inn; his fear of coming suddenly within reach of my sword would make him do that. Well, the evil is done. What steps will the fellow take?—that is the question. Fortunately, those soldiers can do nothing without orders, and their officers have gone to the ball.”
“But hear me through,” said Georgiana. “After they had talked a minute or so, Filson and one of the soldiers walked up the street, so fast that I soon lost sight of them. The other two soldiers remained—to watch this house, perhaps. And then I came to tell you.”
“H’m! Without doubt Filson has gone in quest of somebody in authority. We must be gone from this house, at all events. Filson may return—who knows how soon?—may return with a gang of constables or a file of soldiers. Come, we must leave this inn, at least.”