"Why?"

But again she refused any explanation, merely saying that her departure from Leeds was imperative, and expressing despair that her enemies would never relinquish their hot pursuit. They were hounding her down, she said in despair, and they must sooner or later triumph over her.

"No," I exclaimed. "Hope on, Tibbie. You must escape--you will escape.

They shall never harm you as long as I have strength to be your protector."

"Ah!" she cried. "How can I thank you, Wilfrid. To you I owe my very life. Without you I should have ended it all long ago."

"Never mind that now," I urged. "You must escape. Where shall you go?"

"Anywhere. It is just the same to me," was her answer.

"Then I suggest you take the midday train up to Newcastle. There's a quiet hotel where you may live comfortably and unnoticed, the Douglas, in Grainger Street West. Remain there a few days, and then move on across to Carlisle."

"I know Carlisle," she said. "I've broken the journey there often when going to Scotland."

"But you are not known there?"

"Only at the County Hotel. I can go somewhere else, of course. But are you not coming?" she asked, quickly. "Remember my whole future depends upon you pa.s.sing yourself off as my husband, William Morton."

"For the next few days I think it would be as well for us to remain apart," I replied, for truth to tell I had suddenly formed a plan, and was now anxious to make a flying visit up to London in order to put it into execution.

Her face fell.

"But you will return to me?" she asked, very anxiously.

"Yes--I will meet you in Carlisle in a week's time. Go to Newcastle for four days, and thence to Carlisle. Indeed, change your address constantly. In Newcastle a.s.sume another name, and in Carlisle another.

Do not go in the name of Morton again until we meet. I shall write to you at the post-office in Carlisle. To-day is Tuesday. Next Tuesday you shall hear from me."

"Why do you leave me alone?" she pouted. "How can I spend a whole week wandering about without a companion?"

"Don't you see, Tibbie, that it is very necessary that I should show up to your mother and Jack in order to still pretend to make an effort to find traces of you?" I asked.

"Ah! yes," she sighed. "I suppose you are right. You do all you can in my interests, so I ought not to complain."

"I am glad you are convinced that my return to London is with the object of averting suspicion," I said. "Go up to Newcastle and escape these enemies of yours--whoever they are. Travel constantly if possible. You have money. If not I can give you some."

"Thanks--I have plenty," was her reply; and then she reluctantly commenced packing her trunk preparatory to her hurried departure.

And at noon we had grasped hands on the platform and I had seen her into a third-cla.s.s compartment of the express bound for Newcastle.

"_Au revoir_," she said, bending to me from the carriage window.

"Remember, next Tuesday in Carlisle. You are my friend--promise you will not desert me."

"Next Tuesday," I repeated, lifting my cloth cap. "I promise. Till then, adieu."

And she smiled sadly as the express glided out of the station.

Half an hour later I was on my way to London again, and a little after five o'clock entered the offices of the _Daily Telegraph_ and handed in a cipher advertis.e.m.e.nt, which read,--

"To Nello.--Meet me outside Baker Street Station to-night at eight.

Very urgent. Nothing to fear.--S."

I was convinced that the mysterious Nello lived in London, and therefore would see the paper next morning. I was determined to ascertain who it was in whom Tibbie placed such implicit trust.

I feared to approach Bolton Street; therefore I took a room at the Caledonian Hotel on Adelphi Terrace and sent a note to Budd to come and see me.

In an hour my man stood before me, telling me of the eager inquiries made for me by Mr Ellice Winsloe, and the message he had left, asking me to call and see him as soon as ever I returned.

The scoundrel never believed that I would return. He expected that my body was far out to sea by this time, just as other bodies had been despatched from that house of mystery.

Budd brought me some clean linen and my letters, but I still retained my guise as a working-man, for I had yet a very difficult and delicate task before me, namely, the watching of the man whom Tibbie addressed as Nello.

At noon next day I received a telegram from the woman upon whom rested the dark shadow of a secret crime, telling me of her safe arrival in Newcastle, and reminding me of my promise to return. Then I went forth and lounged about the Burlington in the hope of catching a glimpse of the man who was her enemy as well as mine.

He generally strolled through the Arcade about five o'clock, for he went daily to old General Taylor, in the Albany. I knew his haunts well, therefore, keeping away from his path, I watched until I saw him pa.s.s in deep conversation with a man of his own age, whose sharp, clean-shaved face gave me the impression that he was a barrister. Winsloe looked more refined, more fashionably dressed, with his frock coat cleanly brushed and his glossy silk hat apparently only that moment out of the ironer's hands.

I pretended to be deeply interested in a hosier's window as he pa.s.sed.

But even had we met face to face I doubt if he would have recognised me in the disguise of a working-man.

His face was harder and more evil-looking and his shifty eyes were everywhere. From the way the pair were talking, I could not resist the conviction that the clean-shaven fellow was one of his a.s.sociates or accomplices.

To that elegant man who pa.s.sed as a gentleman, and was invited to half the best houses in London, I owed all my present distress and anxiety, while at the same time he was Sybil's enemy, the man who held her future in his merciless hands.

I watched him out of sight, and then turning upon my heel went back citywards.

That night, just before eight, I strolled along the Marylebone Road, and slowly pa.s.sed Baker Street Station and along by Madame Tussaud's, without, however, seeing traces of anyone. A couple of newsboys were idling on the kerb gossiping, but all else was bustle, and there were no lingerers.

I could not well remain there fearing lest Winsloe or any of his a.s.sociates who knew me might recognise me. Therefore I was compelled to stroll up and down on the opposite side of the way, my eyes eager to discern any man who halted there in expectation.

One man dressed like a City clerk came to a sudden standstill just after eight, looked at his watch and peered inside the station. But I was disappointed, for a few moments later a young woman, in brown, probably his sweetheart, met him, and they both walked away in company. Again a second man emerged from the station and stood for a long time in indecision. He, too, was keeping an appointment, for he was joined presently by a much older man, and they went into a neighbouring saloon-bar.

Half-past eight struck; even nine o'clock. But the appointment was not kept. Perhaps the mysterious Nello had not seen the message?

I was beginning to fear that such was the case, or that my ruse had failed, when a dark-eyed rather handsome young girl, dressed plainly, like a shop a.s.sistant, alighted from a hansom about a hundred yards from the station, paid the driver, and hurriedly approached the spot where I stood.

She took no notice of my presence, but crossing the roadway entered the station and searched eagerly everywhere as though she were late for her appointment.

She came forth again upon the pavement, looked up and down, and then strolled patiently along the kerb.

She never gave me a single glance. This fact I noted, causing me to wonder if she were not waiting for a woman.

Was she awaiting Sybil? Could she be a messenger from the mysterious Nello, in whom my dainty little friend seemed to place such implicit trust?

I crossed the road and idled past her in order to get a good look at her face.

Then I sauntered on, wondering and perplexed.