‘Why, that precious Mr Godfrey,’ she answered. ‘We are only just in time. A pal—a friend, I mean, of poor Sam’s knows him, and has kept an eye on him, to oblige Sam; so he learnt enough to tell me this.’
‘Where did you see him?’ Goodness knows why I asked it, but it did as well as anything else I could think of.
‘He went into a house in that street,’ said Mrs Sam, pointing down a turning at the corner of which we stood. We had met in Gracechurch Street, as being half-way, she living over the water, and because I thought it just possible I might have to see Mr Thurles, after hearing what she had to say.
It was a shipping office, it appeared, into which he had gone. This might easily have been on business for Thurles & Company; yet it agreed so far with what the woman had said, although the place was not an American agency. I dreaded my visit to the Mansion House. I felt that anything would be welcome which might, even for a short time, postpone the awful business I had before me, so I proposed that we should watch until he came out, stationing ourselves in a court where we were not likely to be seen.
She readily agreed, and indeed had said much which I cannot stay to put down, which showed the bitterest animosity against the young man, whom she had seen several times, and who had evidently offended her. This, although of no great consequence, was to me a little strange, as, although I had only seen Godfrey Harleston twice, yet I should have said he was the last man in the world to deserve such hatred. Whatever his faults may have been, there was something open and pleasant in his manner at anyrate. However, Mrs Sam was very decided in her opinion, and while we waited at our post, gave utterance to a good many unflattering speeches regarding Mr Godfrey.
I had in my time been on the watch for six or eight hours at a stretch, and had never felt so uneasy as I did in the twenty minutes I passed in that entry in —— Street. My eyes now fairly ached with watching the never-ceasing streams of figures which came and went in the busy thoroughfare. More than one person came out of the house we were interested in, but I took no more notice of them than of the other strangers. I was looking only for one figure—a figure which I dreaded to see appear, as then I could make no further excuse for delay. Intently as I was watching the office, I thought I must for an instant have dozed, or lost consciousness in some way, for, suddenly, Mrs Sam pulled me sharply by the sleeve, and said: ‘There he is! He has just come out.—Don’t you see him?’ she added hurriedly, seeing me look confusedly from side to side. ‘You say you know him. Don’t you see him?—There—there!’ She pointed with her finger, as she almost angrily uttered these words.
‘No; I do not!’ I exclaimed, with equal sharpness. ‘Mr Harleston is not in sight, I am certain.’
‘Why, what do you mean?’ she cried, and again pointed across the road. ‘Don’t you see him just passing the public-house? He carries a small black bag.’
‘Aha! that—that man!’ I exclaimed. ‘Is that Mr Godfrey Harleston?’
‘Of course it is,’ she retorted. ‘I know him as well as I do you.’