An hour later than the time at which he had been expected,Richard Turlington appeared at his office in the city.

He met beforehand all the inquiries which the marked change inhim must otherwise have provoked, by announcing that he was ill.Before he proceeded to business, he asked if anybody was waitingto see him. One of the servants from Muswell Hill was waitingwith another parcel for Miss Lavinia, ordered by telegram fromthe country that morning. Turlington (after ascertaining theservant's name) received the man in his private room. He thereheard, for the first time, that Launcelot Linzie had been lurkingin the grounds (exactly as he had supposed) on the day when thelawyer took his instructions for the Settlement and the Will.

In two hours more Turlington's work was completed. On leaving theoffice--as soon as he was out of sight of the door--he turnedeastward, instead of taking the way that led to his own house intown. Pursuing his course, he entered the labyrinth of streetswhich led, in that quarter of East London, to the unsavoryneighborhood of the river-side.

By this time his mind was made up. The forecast shadow ofmeditated crime traveled before him already, as he threaded hisway among his fellow-men.

He had been to the vestry of St. Columb Major, and had satisfiedhimself that he was misled by no false report. There was theentry in the Marriage Register. The one unexplained mystery wasthe mystery of Launce's conduct in permitting his wife to returnto her father's house. Utterly unable to account for thisproceeding, Turlington could only accept facts as they were, anddetermine to make the most of his time, while the woman who haddeceived him was still under his roof. A hideous expressioncrossed his face as he realized the idea that he had got her(unprotected by her husband) in his house. "When Launcelot Linzie_does_ come to claim her," he said to himself, "he shall find Ihave been even with him." He looked at his watch. Was it possibleto save the last train and get back that night? No--the lasttrain had gone. Would she take advantage of his absence toescape? He had little fear of it. She would never have allowedher aunt to send him to Lord Winwood's house, if she had felt theslightest suspicion of his discovering the truth in that quarter.Returning by the first train the next morning, he might feel sureof getting back in time. Meanwhile he had the hours of the nightbefore him. He could give his mind to the serious question thatmust be settled before he left London--the question of repayingthe forty thousand pounds. There was but one way of getting themoney now. Sir Joseph had executed his Will; Sir Joseph's deathwould leave his sole executor and trustee (the lawyer had saidit!) master of his fortune. Turlington determined to be master ofit in four-and-twenty hours--striking the blow, without risk tohimself, by means of another hand. In the face of theprobabilities, in the face of the facts, he had now firmlypersuaded himself that Sir Joseph was privy to the fraud that hadbeen practiced on him. The Marriage-Settlement, the Will, thepresence of the family at his country house--all these hebelieved to be so many stratagems invented to keep him deceiveduntil the last moment. The truth was in those words which he hadoverheard between Sir Joseph and Launce--and in Launce's presence(privately encouraged, no doubt) at Muswell Hill. "Her fathershall pay me for it doubly: with his purse and with his life."With that thought in his heart, Richard Turlington wound his waythrough the streets by the river-side, and stopped at a blindalley called Green Anchor Lane, infamous to this day as thechosen resort of the most abandoned wretches whom London canproduce.

The policeman at the corner cautioned him as he turned into thealley. "They won't hurt _me!_" he answered, and walked on to apublic-house at the bottom of the lane.

The landlord at the door silently recognized him, and led the wayin. They crossed a room filled with sailors of all nationsdrinking; ascended a staircase at the back of the house, andstopped at the door of the room on the second floor. There thelandlord spoke for the first time. "He has outrun his allowance,sir, as usual. You will find him with hardly a rag on his back. Idoubt if he will last much longer. He had another fit of thehorrors last night, and the doctor thinks badly of him." Withthat introduction he opened the door, and Turlington entered theroom.

On the miserable bed lay a gray-headed old man of giganticstature, with nothing on him but a ragged shirt and a pair ofpatched, filthy trousers. At the side of the bed, with a bottleof gin on the rickety table between them, sat two hideousleering, painted monsters, wearing the dress of women. The smellof opium was in the room, as well as the smell of spirits. AtTurlington's appearance, the old man rose on the bed and welcomedhim with greedy eyes and outstretched hand.

"Money, master!" he called out hoarsely. "A crown piece inadvance, for the sake of old times!"

Turlington turned to the women without answering, purse in hand.

"His clothes are at the pawnbroker's, of course. How much?"

"Thirty shillings."

"Bring them here, and be quick about it. You will find it worthyour while when you come back."

The women took the pawnbroker's tickets from the pockets of theman's trousers and hurried out.

Turlington closed the door, and seated himself by the bedside. Helaid his hand familiarly on the giant's mighty shoulder, lookedhim full in the face, and said, in a whisper,

"Thomas Wildfang!"

The man started, and drew his huge hairy hand across his eyes, asif in doubt whether he was waking or sleeping. "It's better thanten years, master, since you called me by my name. If I am ThomasWildfang, what are you?"

"Your captain, once more."

Thomas Wildfang sat up on the side of the bed, and spoke his nextwords cautiously in Turlington's ear.

"Another man in the way?"

"Yes."

The giant shook his bald, bestial head dolefully. "Too late. I'mpast the job. Look here."

He held up his hand, and showed it trembling incessantly. "I'm anold man," he said, and let his hand drop heavily again on the bedbeside him.

Turlington looked at the door, and whispered back,

"The man is as old as you are. And the money is worth having."

"How much?"

"A hundred pounds."

The eyes of Thomas Wildfang fastened greedily on Turlington'sface. "Let's hear," he said. "Softly, captain. Let's hear."

* * * * * * * * *

When the women came back with the clothes, Turlington had leftthe room. Their promised reward lay waiting for them on thetable, and Thomas Wildfang was eager to dress himself and begone. They could get but one answer from him to every questionthey put. He had business in hand, which was not to be delayed.They would see him again in a day or two, with money in hispurse. With that assurance he took his cudgel from the corner ofthe room, and stalked out swiftly by the back door of the houseinto the night.