"This man Murray Olivant still feels that you may be useful to him," she said; "in any case, you know too much about his plans to be lightly thrown aside. I have money here that will take you to London; you will go to those rooms where Fanshawe first took you, and you will wait there for Olivant. Do you understand?"
I said that I did, and that I would do all she suggested.
"Two things you have to remember," went on the calm voice. "The first, that the boy must be prevented, at the present time at least, from meeting Olivant; I shudder to think what might happen if they met now. Persuade Olivant to get away—to hide—anything. The second is to get hold of poor Barbara, and to bring her back to her father, if by any chance we do not find young Millard. It may happen that, if Olivant is frightened of what may befall him if the boy finds him, he may throw up the game, and get out of the way; then our course is clear. But in any case, Charlie, we must not travel together. You will go first, and I will come afterwards; we can arrange some place in which to meet in London."
She knew as little about London as I did; therefore she chose the first public place she could think of for our later meeting. I was to find her on one of the seats on the north side of Trafalgar Square, just under the terrace; it was the only place we could think of in the hurry of the moment.
I found that she had thought of everything; she had even bought an old discarded brown wideawake hat from her landlady for me, and had found out at what time the earliest train started for London. With a little money in my pocket I set off eagerly enough on my mission. I felt more hopeful than I had for many days past; I somehow felt that together we must succeed.
It was cold and raw, and there was a biting wind. There were but few people on the platform, and those for the most part were market folk going to intervening stations. I looked eagerly about, wondering if by any chance Murray Olivant had made up his mind to travel so early as that; but I saw nothing of him. Evidently he was so sure of the plans he had laid that he was not going to trouble himself to turn out on such a bitter morning, or to hurry to London.
I went straight to his rooms on reaching London, only to be told by the manservant that he was not there, and was not expected; indeed, the man seemed somewhat astonished at seeing me at all. I evaded his questions, and came away; turned back to deliver a message to the effect that if Mr. Murray Olivant came to the place, the man would beg him to stay until I came again; I had news for him of vital importance. Then I went away, and roamed the streets in the bitter weather, pursued and haunted by a thousand doubts and fears. And so back again to the rooms of Murray Olivant—to see the boy Arnold Millard pacing up and down outside, and keeping watch upon them.
I seemed to see myself again, twenty years before, raging up and down the pavement of Lincoln's Inn Fields, waiting for the man I was to kill!
I was afraid to go to him, or to let him know that I was there, because I feared lest he might think I was on the side of the enemy, fighting against him and the girl. And yet I was afraid, too, that Murray Olivant might at any moment come swinging into the street, and find himself face to face with the boy who had sworn to kill him. Keeping that borrowed hat well down over my brows, I set about to find Olivant, guessing pretty well which way he would come. I went to the end of the street, and presently saw a cab driving fast in the direction of Olivant's rooms; in the cab was the man I sought.