“It is too late to begin anything fresh,” said Marion. “You had better come and have supper with me and Arabella.”
I agreed readily enough to this proposal, and when we had tidied up in readiness for the morning’s work we set forth at a brisk pace—for it was a cold evening—towards Highgate, gossiping cheerfully as we went. By the time we reached Ivy Cottage eight o’clock was striking, and “the village” was beginning to settle down for the night. The premature quiet reminded me that the adjacent town would presently be settling down, too, and that I should do well to start for home before the streets had become too deserted.
Nevertheless, so pleasantly did the time slip away in the cosy sitting-room with my two companions that it was close upon half-past ten when I rose to take my departure. Marion escorted me to the door, and as I stood in the hall buttoning up my overcoat, she said:
“You needn’t worry if you are detained tomorrow. We shall be making the wax cast of the bust, and I am certain Mr. Polton won’t leave the studio until it is finished, whether you are there or not. He is perfectly mad on waxwork. He wormed all the secrets of the trade out of me the very first time we were alone, and he is extraordinarily quick at learning. But I can’t imagine what use the knowledge will be to him.”
“Perhaps he thinks of starting an opposition establishment,” I suggested, “or he may have an eye to a partnership. But if he has he will have a competitor, and one with a prior claim. Good night, dear child. Save some of the waxwork for me tomorrow.”
She promised to restrain Polton’s enthusiasm as far as possible, and wishing me “Good night,” held out her hand, but submitted without demur to being kissed; and I took my departure in high spirits, more engrossed with the pleasant leave-taking than with the necessity of keeping a bright lookout.
I was nearing the bottom of the High Street when the prevailing quiet recalled me to the grim realities of my position, and I was on the point of stopping to take a look round when I bethought me of Polton’s appliance and also of that cunning artificer’s advice not to put a possible “stalker” on his guard. I accordingly felt in my pocket, and having found the appliance carefully fixed it in my eye without altering my pace. The first result was a collision with a lamppost, which served to remind me of the necessity of keeping both eyes open. The instrument was, in fact, not very easy to use while walking, and it took me a minute or two to learn how to manage it. Presently, however, I found myself able to divide my attention between the pathway in front and the view behind, and then it was that I became aware of a man following me at a distance of about a hundred yards. Of course, there was nothing remarkable or suspicious in this, for it was a main thoroughfare and by no means deserted at this comparatively early hour. Nevertheless, I kept the man in view, noting that he wore a cloth cap and a monkey-jacket, that he carried no stick or umbrella, and that when I slightly slackened my pace he did not seem to overtake me. As this suggested that he was accommodating his pace to mine, I decided to put the matter to the test by giving him an opportunity to pass me at the next side turning.
At this moment the Roman Catholic Church came into view and I recalled that at its side a narrow lane—Dartmouth Park Hill—ran down steeply between high fences towards Kentish Town. Instantly I decided to turn into the lane—which bent sharply to the left behind the church—walk a few yards down it and then return slowly. If my follower were a harmless stranger he would then have passed on down Highgate Hill, whereas if he were stalking me I should meet him at the entrance to the lane and could then see what he was like.
But I was not very well satisfied with this plan, for the obvious manoeuvre would show him that he was suspected; and as I approached the church, a better plan suggested itself. On one side by the entrance to the lane were some low railings and a gate with large brick piers. In a moment I had vaulted over the railings and taken up a position behind one of the piers, where I stood motionless, listening intently. Very soon I caught the sound of distinctly rapid footsteps, which suddenly grew louder as my follower came opposite the entrance to the lane, and louder still as, without a moment’s hesitation, he turned into it.
From my hiding-place in the deep shadow of the pier I could safely peep out into the wide space at the entrance of the lane; and as this space was well lighted by a lamp I was able to get an excellent view of my follower. And very much puzzled I was therewith. Naturally I had expected to recognize the man whose photograph I had in my pocket. But this was quite a different type of man. It is true that he was shortish and rather slightly built, and that he had a beard: but there the resemblance ended. His face, which I could see plainly by the lamplight, so far from being of an aquiline or vulturine cast, was rather of the blunt and bibulous type. The short, though rather bulbous nose, made up in colour what it lacked in size, and its florid tint extended
