David had not the least doubt on the latter score. Of course he would
do nothing wrong, neither would he keep the money. This he preferred
to regard as a loan--a loan to be paid off before long. At any rate,
money or no money, he would have been sorry to have abandoned the
adventure now.

His spirits rose as he walked along, a great weight had fallen from his
shoulders. He smiled as he thought of his mother peacefully sleeping at
home. What would his mother think if she knew? But, then, nobody was to
know. That had been expressly settled in the bond.

Save for an occasional policeman the streets were deserted. It was a
little cold and raw for the time of year, and a fog like a pink blanket
was creeping in from the sea. Down in the Steine the big arc-lights
gleamed here and there like nebulous blue globes; it was hardly possible
to see across the road. In the half-shadow behind Steel the statue of the
First Gentleman in Europe glowed gigantic, ghost-like in the mist.

It was marvellously still there, so still that David could hear the
tinkle of the pebbles on the beach. He stood back by the gate of the
gardens watching the play of the leaf silhouettes on the pavement,
quaint patterns of fantastic designs thrown up in high relief by the
arc-light above. From the dark foggy throat of St. James's Street came
the tinkle of a cycle bell. On so still a night the noise seemed bizarre
and out of place. Then the cycle loomed in sight; the rider, muffled and
humped over the front wheel, might have been a man or a woman. As the
cyclist flashed by something white and gleaming dropped into the road,
and the single word "Come" seemed to cut like a knife through the fog.
That was all; the rider had looked neither to the right nor to the left,
but the word was distinctly uttered. At the same instant an arm dropped