When we ascended into Leicester Square again we found the pavements congested, for Daly's, the Empire, and the Alhambra had just disgorged their throngs.
As he walked with me he turned, and suddenly asked:
"Since you've been in London has old Van Nierop visited the Baron?"
I started in quick surprise, but in an instant recollected my master's injunctions.
"Van Nierop!" I echoed. "Whom do you mean?"
But he only laughed knowingly, exclaiming:
"All right. You'll deny all knowledge of him, of course. But, my dear Dickson, take the advice of one who knows, and be ever watchful. Take care of your own self. Good night!"
And my friend, who seemed to possess some secret knowledge, vanished in the crowd.
Once or twice he ascended and called upon me, and we sometimes used to spend our evenings together in that illicit little gaming-room behind a shop in Old Compton Street, a place much frequented by foreign servants.
I noticed, however, though he was very inquisitive regarding the Baron and his movements, he would never give me any reason. He sometimes warned me mysteriously that I was in danger. But to me his words appeared absurd.