She sighed, exclaiming,—
“Ah, Wilfrid! It is cruel—cruel of them to hunt me down as they are now doing. Where shall I go? Where do you intend going?”
“Anywhere—out of London. What about Leeds? Neither of us know anyone there.”
She was silent a moment. Then said, “I am in your hands entirely, Wilfrid, and will go to Leeds if you think I can travel without being recognised.”
“If I anticipated any risk I would not allow you to undertake it,” I said. “We will go this evening by the 5:45 from King’s Cross—‘Oswin’s train,’ as they call it, because he is the caterer for the dining-car.”
“Very well,” she answered. “As you wish. But before we go will you do me a favour? Go to the Daily Telegraph office and put in an advertisement for me.”
“An advertisement!” I exclaimed, in surprise.
“Yes,” she laughed, rather nervously. “I want to—I mean it is necessary that I should communicate with a friend.”
I said nothing, but stood watching her as she took out half a sheet of notepaper and commenced to print three lines of jumbled capitals and numerals—an advertisement apparently in the cipher which I had taken from the dead unknown.
Her action astounded me, but I managed to remain as though interested but ignorant.