"Yes," said Lady Eversleigh; "his life only now stands between Sir Reginald and fortune." "Then he will take that life by Carrington's agency, as I believe he has taken Lionel Dale's," said Mr. Larkspur; "and my idea is that the proper way to prevent him is to go away from this place, where no good is to be done, and where any movement will only defeat our purpose, by putting him on his guard--letting him know he is watched (forewarned, forearmed, you know)--and set ourselves to watch Carrington in London." "Why in London? How do you know he's there?" Mr. Larkspur smiled. "Lord bless your innocence!" he replied. "How do I know it? Why, ain't London the natural place for him to be in? Ain't London the place where every one that has done a successful trick goes to enjoy it, and every one that has missed his tip goes to hide himself? I'll take my davy, though it's a thing I don't like doing in general, that Carrington's back in town, living with his mother, as right as a trivet." So Lady Eversleigh and Jane Payland travelled up to town again, and took up their old quarters. And Mr. Larkspur returned, and resumed his room and his accustomed habits. But before he had been many hours in London, he had ascertained, by the evidence of his own eyes, that Victor Carrington was, as he had predicted, in town, living with his mother, and "as right as a trivet." CHAPTER XXV. A DANGEROUS ALLIANCE. In the afternoon of the day following that on which Sir Reginald paid a visit to Victor Carrington, the latter gentleman presented himself at the door of Hilton House. The frost had again set in, and this time with more than usual severity. There had been a heavy fall of snow, and the park-like grounds surrounding Madame Durski's abode had an almost fairy-like appearance, the tracery of the leafless trees defined by the snow that had lodged on every branch, the undulating lawn one bed of pure white. He knocked at the door and waited. The woman at the lodge had told him that it was very unlikely he would be able to see Madame Durski at this hour of the day, but he had walked on to the house notwithstanding. It was already nearly four o'clock in the afternoon; but at that hour Paulina had rarely left her own apartments. Victor Carrington knew this quite as well as the woman at the lodge, but he had business to do with another person as well as Paulina Durski. That other person was the widow's humble companion. The door was opened by Carlo Toas, Paulina's confidential courier and butler. This man looked very suspiciously at the visitor. "My mistress receives no one at this hour," he said. "I am aware that she does not usually see visitors so early," replied Carrington; "but as I come on particular business, and as I come a long way to see her, she will perhaps make an exception in my favour."