course she harped on "gratitude." What but a sense of obligation had
constrained her?

Something had taken place to-day; he felt it as a miserable
certainty. The man from London had been with her. She expected him,
and had elaborately planned for a day of freedom. Perhaps her
invitation of Patty had no other motive.

That Patty was a conspirator against him he could not believe. No!
She was merely an instrument of Eve's subtlety. And his suspicion
had not gone beyond the truth. Eve entertained the hope that Patty
might take her place. Perchance the silly, good-natured girl would
feel no objection; though it was not very likely that she foresaw or
schemed for such an issue.

At Snow Hill station it cost him an effort to rise and leave the
carriage. His mood was sluggish; he wished to sit still and think
idly over the course of events.

He went byway of St. Philip's Church, which stands amid a wide
graveyard, enclosed with iron railings, and crossed by paved walks.
The locality was all but forsaken; the church rose black against the
grey sky, and the lofty places of business round about were darkly
silent. A man's footstep sounded in front of him, and a figure
approached along the narrow path between the high bars. Hilliard
would have passed without attention, but the man stopped his way.

"Hollo! Here we are again!"

He stared at the speaker, and recognised Mr. Dengate.