"Cynthia," said her father, drawing her into a quiet little side-street, and speaking in low earnest tones, "I have been a great fool! I wish I had taken your advice earlier. That woman Meldreth suspects me. For aught I know, I am already watched and followed. There is not a moment to lose. If I mean to escape, I'd better get out of the country as fast as I can--or find some snug corner where I can lie close until they have left off looking for me. There is a cab--a four-wheeler. Let us get into that, and we can talk as we go. I don't see any one who appears to be dogging me at present. Where were you going?" "I will go wherever you go, father," said Cynthia. CHAPTER XXXIX. Westwood was silent until he found himself with his daughter inside the cab. "Where did you tell him to go?" he then asked of her. "To St. Pancras Station. I thought that we could more easily evade watchers at a big railway-station than anywhere else." "They will watch the stations," said the man. "I may have got the start, and I may not. The stations are hardly safe." "Let the man drive on for a few minutes while you tell me the reason why you think you are watched," said Cynthia, suspecting panic; "he cannot be going far out of the way, and, if we change our minds we can tell him so presently." "Well," said Westwood, evidently recovering nerve and self-possession under the influence of his daughter's calmer manner and speaking in an easier tone, "it's that woman Meldreth--she is a spy. Who do you think came to her house yesterday but Mrs. Vane? The very woman who has most reason to dread me and to wish to get me shut up in prison, if my idea of her is true! I think she wanted to see me with her own eyes. She looked at me as if she would read me through and through." "Where did you meet her, father?" "In the street. I was asked to show her Mrs. Gunn's house. It was pure accident of course, but it gave us an opportunity of looking at each other." "Did you go back to the house after that?" "Yes, I did, my girl, because I had left my portmanteau there with papers and money, without which I should soon be in 'Queer Street.' Yes, I went back, and found Mrs. Vane gone. But the Meldreth woman had a queer look about her, and I suspected what she was about, though I don't know that I could have balked her but for my peculiar constitution. Sleeping-stuff don't have no effect on me, my dear--it never had. They tried it in the prison when I was there at first, and couldn't sleep for thinking of the woods and the open fields and my own little girl--and it nearly drove me mad. Sabina Meldreth gave me some sleeping-stuff in my tea last night." "What for, father?"