There was a rattle of wagons and a bustle of departing guests as we
drove into the courtyard of the famous hostelry. The eight-o'clock boat
was to carry the passengers for the east-bound overland train, and the
outgoing travelers were filling the place with noise and confusion.
I stepped out of the hack, and looked about me anxiously. Was I to meet
the Unknown? or was I to take orders from some emissary of my hidden
employer? No answering eye met mine as I searched the place with eager
glance. Neither woman nor man of all the hurrying crowd had a thought
for me.
The hotel carriages rattled away, and comparative quiet once more fell
on the court. I looked impatiently about. Was there some mistake? Had
the plans been changed? But as I glanced at the clock that ticked the
seconds in the office of the hotel I saw that I had been early, and
that it was even now but twenty minutes to the hour.
The minute-hand had not swept past the figure VIII when the door
opened, there was a hurried step, and two women stood before me,
leading a child between them. Both women were closely veiled, and the
child was muffled and swathed till its features could not be seen.
One of the women was young, the other older--perhaps middle-aged. Both
were tall and well-made. I looked eagerly upon them, for one of them
must be the Unknown, the hidden employer whose task had carried Henry
Wilton to his death, who held my life in her hands, and who fought the
desperate battle with the power and hatred of Doddridge Knapp.
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