“And your brother?” I asked, recollecting Whitworth’s declaration that he had never heard of her. “Is he any better?”
“Oh, a great deal, thanks,” was her reply. “He took a turn for the better that night I came to you, and has improved ever since.”
She looked, I think, prettier than on that night when we had driven together to Blackheath. But she had deceived me in regard to her statement concerning Dr. Whitworth, so I supposed she was deceiving me now.
She was in a hurry to get home, she told me, and my first impulse was to follow her secretly, but when I recollected that the man for whom I had been so long in wait was actually inside No. 7, I decided to keep watch upon him rather than upon her.
The fact that she had come from that house was in itself curious, and made me suspect that her visit to me on that night in Walworth had some secret connection with the scheme of this man Purvis.
The manner in which she was hurrying when I stopped her made it plain that she was late for some appointment.
There were two courses open to me, namely: to follow her, or else to remain and await Purvis. The discovery that she was friendly with some person at No. 7 had suddenly aroused within me a desire to know her place of abode in order to make secret inquiries concerning her. Yet, after all, my chief business was with Purvis, so I decided to remain on watch for him.
With her consent, therefore, I saw her into an omnibus for Ludgate Hill, whence she told me she would take train home, and when I parted from her I expressed a fervent hope that we might meet again before very long.
“Good-night,” she said, as we shook hands. “Yes, I hope we shall meet again—in more fortunate circumstances than to-night.” And she mounted into the omnibus and left me.
What could she mean by more fortunate circumstances? I was puzzled at her words, but at last their truth became apparent.