“And you mean to say—”
“I mean to say,” said he, with a glance up at the clock, “that you had better take this letter at once, Batchelor.”
“And if I don’t?”
“If you don’t, your friend Smith shall smart for it.”
Before I could make up my mind what to do—whether to feign alarm and take the letter, leaving him to suppose he still had the whip-hand over us, or whether to undeceive him at once, and defy him point-blank—before I could reply at all, the door suddenly opened, and Masham entered.
If anything was still wanted to decide me, this sufficed. I felt certain now that there was mischief on foot somewhere, and the appearance of this bird of ill-omen was sufficient to account for Hawkesbury’s eagerness to get me out of the way.
What could have brought these two to arrange a meeting here, at the office, and at an hour when in the ordinary course of things no one else would be present?
I determined to stay where I was at all risks.
Masham on seeing me started, and looked inquiringly at Hawkesbury.
“What’s he doing here?” he said. The very sound of his voice made my blood boil.