It seemed possible, however, that he might commit an error which would lead to his undoing, in this matter of the appointment at “The Three Watermen.” In the first place, if, as he suspected, the man responsible for the death of Dandy Chater was the man known as “the Count,” it would be obviously impossible for Philip Chater to keep the appointment. Yet, on the other hand, Philip was determined to know more of the surroundings and associates of the late Dandy Chater than he knew already; indeed, to do so was absolutely necessary. He had set his feet upon that road which was plainly marked “Deception”; and, wheresoever it might lead, there must be no turning back now. As Dandy Chater he stood before them all; as Dandy Chater he must stand while he lived, or until the cheat was discovered. Philip Crowdy was as dead as though he had never existed. “There’s another man, too, with whom I am supposed to be in company—Ogledon, I think the name was; I wonder who _he_ is? However, I’ll go to London—and I’ll attend this meeting, if it be possible.” Early next morning saw him on his way to the station—this time with some pomp and ceremony, for he drove a smart dog-cart, and was attended by Harry. The occupants of other vehicles, passing him, were respectful or familiar, according to their grade; and he answered all salutations discreetly. “I’m beginning to like this,” he said, as he leant back in the corner of a first-class carriage, and lit a cigar. “I wish I knew how much money there was in the bank, or what property I had generally; I must make enquiries. At present, things are decidedly pleasant—and there’s an element of danger about the business that gives it a flavour. There’s that girl, too—Madge; but I’m not sure that I quite like that. I’ve taken a kiss from her lips that was never meant for me; and yet”—he shook his head over it, and sighed heavily—“I’m very much afraid that I’m a little bit in love with her; I know, at any rate, that I dread very much seeing those eyes change from tenderness to contempt—from kindness to reproach or scorn. Well—we must hope for the best.” Cheerfully hoping for the best, he made his way to Woolwich, as night was coming on, and headed for the little public-house by the river. Being still doubtful, however, what course to pursue, he paced a little side street near at hand for some time, trying to make up his mind whether to put in an appearance at “The Three Watermen,” at the time appointed, or not. He was so deep in his reflections, that he failed to notice one or two lurking figures, in the shadow of the houses, on the opposite side of the way; until another figure—not by any means a lurking one, but one which took up a great deal of the pavement, with a rolling gait, and roared very huskily a stave of a song as it came along—lurched towards him; when, in an instant, the lurking figures became very active.