“If Redbeard has got upon the Great Eastern line at Romford,” I said, “he can’t go farther than Liverpool Street, the terminus. He may of course ‘do’ us by getting out at some station immediately preceding the terminus, but that I must chance, and it’s not at all unlikely he may come on by an express that doesn’t stop at the intermediate stations. Anyhow, I’m going to cab it to Liverpool Street to watch all the Romford trains. You stay here--where you can’t be seen, of course--and keep an eye upon the other trains that come in. If you see Redbeard, shadow him, and wire me to the club when you’ve got any news. But remember Quickly and Green, and take care of yourself. Good-bye.” CHAPTER XXV JAMES MULLEN AND I MEET AT LAST As the cab which I had chartered rattled up the approach to the Great Eastern terminus at Liverpool Street, I had to admit to myself that the probability of my falling in again with the red-bearded man scarcely justified me in feeling so sanguine as I did. I am not in the general way given to “presentiments,” but on this occasion I felt almost childishly confident about the result of my operations. Though I told myself, over and over again, that there is nothing so hope-destroying to an active mind as compulsory inaction, and that it was only because I had something definite with which to occupy myself that I felt so hopeful, not all my philosophy could persuade me that I should fail in bringing the enterprise to a successful termination. Curiously enough, presentiment was for once justified of her assurance, and at the expense of philosophy, for as the clocks were chiming eight, and evening was beginning to close in, whom should I see step out upon the platform from a Romford train but my gentleman of the red beard and brown bag. He gave up his ticket and walked out of the station into Liverpool Street, crossed the road and went up New Broad Street and so to the Bank. Then he went into a tobacconist’s, whence he emerged puffing a big cigar, and proceeded up Cheapside until he reached Foster Lane, down which he turned. Here I had to be more cautious, for on Saturday night the side streets of the City are deserted. Even in the great thoroughfares, where during the five preceding days blows have rained thick and fast, with scarce a moment’s interval, upon the ringing anvils of traffic, there is a perceptible lull, but in the side streets there is absolute silence.