The lawyer nodded, and looked at my mistress, who bowed her head to him. He then said, turning to me:
“Pack up your bag for traveling at once, and have a conveyance got ready to go to the nearest post-town. Look sharp, young man—look sharp!”
“And, whatever happens in the future,” added my mistress, her kind voice trembling a little, “believe, William, that I shall never forget the proof you now show of your devotion to me. It is still some comfort to know that I have your fidelity to depend on in this dreadful trial—your fidelity and the extraordinary intelligence and experience of Mr. Dark.”
Mr. Dark did not seem to hear the compliment. He was busy writing, with his paper upon the map on his knee.
A quarter of an hour later, when I had ordered the dog-cart, and had got down into the hall with my bag packed, I found him there waiting for me. He was sitting in the same chair which he had occupied when he first arrived, and he had another jug of the old ale on the table by his side.
“Got any fishing-rods in the house?” says he, when I put my bag down in the hall.
“Yes,” I replied, astonished at the question. “What do you want with them?”
“Pack a couple in cases for traveling,” says Mr. Dark, “with lines, and hooks, and fly-books all complete. Have a drop of the ale before you go—and don’t stare, William, don’t stare. I’ll let the light in on you as soon as we are out of the house. Off with you for the rods! I want to be on the road in five minutes.”
When I came back with the rods and tackle I found Mr. Dark in the dog-cart.
“Money, luggage, fishing-rods, papers of directions, copy of anonymous letter, guide-book, map,” says he, running over in his mind the things wanted for the journey—“all right so far. Drive off.”