Six o’clock was striking when I reached it, but Hector was not there. Moment succeeded moment and still he did not come. Impatient I began to walk up and down, crossing the Sands to look at the river where fishermen were busy tempting the fish with their flies. I strolled back again to the Vennel and walked up it for a short distance, descending once again to the Port. There was no sign of Hector, and when the clock struck seven and I realised that an hour had elapsed since I had come to the trysting-place, anxiety assailed me. This was not like the packman. Had some mischance befallen him? He had told me that his was dangerous work, and I knew that he spoke the truth. One false step, and he would be undone. At this very moment he might be in grave danger. Ill at ease, I went up to the top of the Vennel, hoping to meet him. My quest was vain! The clock struck eight: he had not yet appeared. As the time dragged on its leaden way I remembered the long pathetic vigil I had shared with Jean at Daldowie, and though the memory stabbed me to the heart, I hugged it to me. The hour of nine struck on the Tolbooth clock; still there was no sign of Hector. Twilight gathered and deepened; the stars stole out, and still he did not come. When another weary hour had passed I decided that it was useless to wait longer, so, at the last stroke of the hour, I crossed the bridge and made for my lodgings in Mitchell’s Close. The good woman of the house had not yet retired to rest, and I was fain to partake of the supper which she had prepared for me. During the meal I said nothing to her of my anxiety. Hector had warned me to be careful in my speech, and, fortunately, she showed no curiosity as to my doings. When supper was over I bade her good night and went to my room. Before undressing and lying down, I looked through the window. It was a quiet summer night. All the world seemed at peace; but some dazed dread was knocking at the door of my heart and I was sore troubled. Something must have happened to Hector--of that there could be little doubt. For a time I lay awake in a maze of anxiety: and it was not till after midnight had boomed from the Tolbooth clock, that languor stole over me and I slept. *CHAPTER XXX* *IN THE TIGER’S DEN*