I shook hands with her solemnly on the dark and grimy staircase; and I blessed and thanked her. Then I opened the door, and went into the room, praying hard for strength to control myself. Dawkins was sitting on the edge of the table, swinging one leg, and smoking a cigar; he did not trouble to look round as I entered, probably from the fact that he felt that only one person could come into that room with any assurance. "Well, Fanshawe, it's taken you long enough to get to London," he said, flicking the ash from his cigar. "I beg your pardon," I said, "but it's not Mr. Fanshawe." He jumped off the table, and leant against it, staring at me; I think it was the first time I had seen his face without a smile upon it. "By George!" he exclaimed, in a low voice--"I thought I'd tied you up better than that!" "I was so fortunate as to get away," I replied. "I have seen my--my master, Mr. Olivant; he knows all about my escape. I have just left him." "Then perhaps you've brought something for me from him?" he exclaimed eagerly, with his habitual smile breaking over his face. I shook my head. "Nothing," I said. "I did not expect even to find you here." "True; I'd forgotten that," he said, in a tone of disappointment. "I suppose you came looking for Fanshawe--eh? As a matter of fact, I want to see Fanshawe myself." I suddenly made up my mind that I would make the attempt on my own part to find out something about the girl; I might even be able to persuade this man that he would get nothing from Murray Olivant, and so induce him, out of revenge, to let me know where Barbara was. After a moment's hesitation I plunged into the business. "When you left me tied up and gagged at the house at Hammerstone Market," I began, "you took away with you a young lady--Miss Barbara Savell." "And a deuced nice girl, too," exclaimed the man, nodding his head and smiling. "You were nicely diddled over that business, Tinman; and in turn I diddled our friend Olivant. It's a pity that so charming a young lady should be played catch-ball with in this fashion; but that's her fault, because she is so charming. Now, I suppose you've really been sent by Olivant to spy out the land--eh? You may as well let me know the truth, because I shall discover it in any case. I'm much too wily for you people." "I tell you again that I did not imagine for a moment you would be here," I reminded him. "Mr. Olivant knows nothing of your whereabouts; he has simply had your letter, giving an address to which letters may be sent. But I assure you that you will get nothing out of him." "Oh, so you know _that_, do you?" he said with a sneer. "Very well, I can afford to wait. The young lady, though inclined to be troublesome and fretful, is really very charming company." "I want to believe, sir, that you're a gentleman," I went on again patiently. "Thank you," he responded, smiling.