"And, Rayner," I added, "bring my small suit-case with things for the night, and an extra suit. Drop it at the cloak-room at Charing Cross on your way here. I may have to leave London."
"Anything interesting, sir?" he asked, his natural curiosity rising.
"Yes. I'll tell you when we meet," was my answer, and I rang off.
I have always found clerical clothes an excellent disguise for keeping observation. It may be conspicuous, but the clergyman is never regarded with any suspicion, where an ill-dressed man who loiters is in peril of being interfered with by the police, "moved on," or even taken into custody on suspicion of loitering for the purpose of committing a felony. England is not exactly the "free country" which those ignorant of our by-laws are so fond of declaring.
Having spoken to Rayner, I returned to the corner of Hatton Garden, and idling about aimlessly, kept a sharp eye upon the watchmaker's shop.
If my visit to the offices of Loicq Brothers had aroused any suspicion in the mind of Gregory Vernon, then he would, no doubt, make a bolt for it. If not, he would remain there till he left for his home.
In the latter case I should certainly discover the place of his abode, and take the first step towards striking the blow.
On the one hand, I argued that Vernon would never dare to remain in England after his brutal attack upon Lola, knowing that the police must question her. Then there was the tell-tale excavation in the garden at Spring Grove—the nameless grave ready prepared for her! But, on the other hand, I recollected the subtle cunning of the man, his bold audacity, his astounding daring, and his immunity hitherto from the slightest suspicion.
The flitting shadow upon the ground-glass was, I felt confident, his silhouette—that silhouette I had known so well—when he had been in the habit of passing the Hôtel de Paris, at Cromer, a dozen times a day.
The afternoon wore on, but I still remained at the Holborn end of Hatton Garden, ever watchful of all who came and went. Rayner was longer than he had anticipated, for he had to drive down to Charing Cross before coming to me. But at last I saw a wretched, ill-dressed, pale-faced man alight from a bus outside Wallis's drapery shop, and, glancing round, he quickly found me.