It was very brief:
"_Since my only chance of escaping persecution is to accede, in some
measure, to your demands, I will consent to see you. If you will wait
for me to-night, at nine o'clock, by the water-side, to the left of the
bridge, I will try to come to that spot at that hour. Heaven grant the
meeting may be our last_!"
Exactly as the village church clock struck nine, a dark figure crossed
a low, flat meadow, lying near the water, and appeared upon the narrow
towing-path by the river's edge. A man was walking on this pathway, his
face half hidden by a slouched hat, and a short pipe in his month.
He lifted his hat presently, and bared his head to the cool night
breeze. His hair was closely cropped, like that of a convict. The broad
moonlight shining fall upon his face, revealed a dark, weather-beaten
countenance--the face of the tramp who had stood at the park-gates to
watch the passing of Sir Oswald's funeral train--the face of the tramp
who had loitered in the stable-yard of the "Hen and Chickens"--the face
of the man who had been known in Ratcliff Highway by the ominous name
of Black Milsom.
This was the man who waited for Honoria Eversleigh in the moonlight by
the quiet river.
He advanced to meet her as she came out of the meadow and appeared upon
the pathway.
"Good evening, my lady," he said. "I suppose I ought to be humbly
beholden to such a grand lady as you for coming here to meet the likes
of me.
Pages:
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292