When she again found herself in the street, she drew down her veil, and hastened towards the nearest hackney-coach stand. A vehicle speedily drew alongside of the kerb-stone for her accommodation; and as she was stepping into it, she distinctly beheld, through the folds of her veil, the tall old man and the pale lad entering another vehicle at a little distance. She could not be mistaken—for the shops sent forth a flood of light which rendered the forms of those two persons plainly visible. The coachman had to repeat his inquiry whither he was to drive, ere Esther could recover her presence of mind sufficiently to reply. "To the nearest post-office in Holborn," she at length said. "Why, Lord bless you, ma'am—there's one close by here—not ten yards off," answered the Jarvey, who was an honest fellow in his way. "Never mind," said Esther. "I wish to be taken to another." The man urged no farther objection, but mounted his box and drove away—quietly settling in his own mind that his "fare" was either mad or tipsy, he neither knew nor cared which. Miss de Medina could not shake off an oppressive suspicion which had forced itself upon her. She fancied that she was watched;—and, for the simple reason that she knew nothing of the old man and the lad, her uneasiness increased into actual alarm. This feeling was enhanced, too, when her quick ears caught the rumbling sound of another vehicle behind: and she began to blame herself for having ventured abroad at such an hour. Then she reasoned with herself that no harm could possibly happen to her in the midst of a densely populated city, and while people were walking about in all directions:—but still, in spite of this attempt at self-assurance, the pale countenance of the lad and the sinister looks of the old man haunted her like spirits of evil. But in a few minutes the hackney-coach entered Holborn; and the blaze of light—the bustle—the throng of vehicles—the crowd of foot-passengers—and the animated appearance of the whole scene, dispelled nearly all her alarms. The vehicle draw up nearly at the corner of Fetter Lane; and Esther alighted. Another hackney-coach stopped simultaneously at a short distance; and her eyes were immediately directed towards it. "Here's the post-office, ma'am," said the driver of the vehicle which she had hired. Miss de Medina started—recollected herself—and hastened to thrust into the letter-box the epistle which she had written ere she left home. The address on that epistle was—"_T. R., No. 5, Brandon Street, Lock's Fields._" This superscription was caught by the sharp eyes of the pale-faced boy, who had stolen—quick as thought—up to the shop-window, and now stood by Esther's side as she dropped the letter into the box. When Esther turned hastily to regain the vehicle, she beheld the lad retreating with strange speed from the spot. "What can this mean?" she thought within herself. "Who is it that is thus watching my movements?"