During the remainder of the day Kate was invisible, and next morning both men started for London. Hall was generous in his happiness, apparently, for the object of the journey was to relieve Mr. Stafford of all farther strain for the present, in regard to the mortgage and interest then coming due.
It did not take long to transact the business in London, and after dining together, the men parted, Stafford starting for home, and Hall, having further business to transact, remained in London.
Hall's "business" during the afternoon, did not appear to be very pressing, as he spent the time drinking and playing billiards. Just about dusk he quit playing, paid his score, and after taking a parting drink, left the place.
His destination was the same tumble-down rookery which he visited on his previous trip to London. It had begun to rain during the afternoon, a drizzling, misty rain, with the regulation fog accompaniment, and no one would recognize in the man in the big rough coat and slouch hat, the collar of the one turned up and the brim of the other pulled down, the elegant and natty Mr. Hall.
Entering the house after a rapid though useless glance behind, useless because he could not see ten feet behind him, Hall ascended to the second floor. His knock was answered by a miserable looking old man, who peered cautiously at him through the partly-open door.
"Bah! Why, you fool, do you suppose if it was the police you could keep them out!" and pushing the door open Hall entered.
The old man—he was certainly seventy—locked and bolted the door again, and then following the example of his visitor, sat down.
"Now then," said Hall, opening the conversation, "you promised to have a copy of this Carden's will the next time I called, which was to be to-night. Have you got it?"
The old man shook his head in the negative and Hall asked angrily, "Why not?"
"Thought I'd be a fool to trust anyone else 'n I can't do it myself—that's why."