The station hotel at Hull is comfortable, but by no means a gay place of residence, and for several days I wondered what might be her object in visiting that Yorkshire port. The room adjoining her sitting-room on the second floor became vacant on the third day after our arrival, and I fortunately succeeded in obtaining it. She entertained no suspicion that I was following her, although I dogged her movements everywhere.
In Hull she only went out twice, once to a stationer’s in Whitefriar-gate, and on the other occasion to the telegraph office. As at Brighton and Ilfracombe, she still appeared to be waiting in patience for the arrival of some one whom she expected.
About nine o’clock one evening, after she had remained nearly a week in Hull, always taking her meals in her own room and passing her time in reading, I had returned from the coffee-room, and was about to go forth for a stroll, when suddenly I heard a waiter rap at her door and announce a visitor.
A locked door separated her sitting-room from mine, and standing by it, listening eagerly, I heard the sound of rustling paper, the hurried closing of a box, and her permission to show the visitor up.
A few minutes passed in silence. Then I heard some one enter, and a man’s voice exclaimed with a distinctly foreign accent—
“Ah, my dear Edna! At last! I feared that you would have left before my arrival.”
“I expected you days ago,” she answered, and I knew from the man’s sigh that he had sunk wearily into a chair.
“I was delayed,” he explained. “I had a narrow escape. Oustromoff has guessed the truth.”
“What?” she gasped in alarm, “The secret is out?”
“Yes,” he answered gruffly.