I carried that thought with me through all the long day. It was with me when presently I went to Murray Olivant's flat, and stood with apparent humility before him, while he looked through his letters and toyed with his breakfast; it was with me when he put the money into my hands that was to pay, in part, for his trick--that money with which I was to purchase the steamer tickets. He had decided to go by a comparatively small vessel to the Mediterranean; or, at all events, to let it be thought that he was going by that vessel. I remember that it was called the _Eaglet_; and he kept up that mad trick so that he was even careful as to the choosing of his cabin. I was supposed to accompany him, and a berth was engaged for me. I went back to him later in the day, carrying the tickets with me. I found the place in disorder, and the manservant covering everything up, and locking drawers and cupboards; Olivant himself was destroying a great mass of letters. So thorough was the business that I observed with some surprise some new clothing, of a cheaper and commoner pattern than that usually worn by him; it was only after the manservant had left the room that he told me what this clothing was intended for. "I do everything thoroughly, Tinman," he said, with a chuckle. "Everything here is packed up and left; Murray Olivant walks out of the place, and disappears from that moment. The world believes he goes on board the _Eaglet_, to start for a pleasure cruise. As a matter of fact he goes in those clothes"--he pointed to the new garments I had before noticed--"and he turns up in another place, and under another name. You will know that other place, because you will be there with me; and Jervis Fanshawe will know it also; but that's all. I shall not have a scrap of paper about me, nor a mark on my clothes by which any one can point to me and say, 'That's Murray Olivant!' I'm going to begin a new life with that sweet child Barbara (she's bound to be found; she'll be glad enough to come back to me)--and I shall keep that life up for just as long as I wish. I'm taking money enough to last me, in a modest way, until I resurrect Murray Olivant, and bring him back again." I was busied all that day on various errands for him; it was late in the evening when he suddenly put a newspaper before me, and pointed to an advertisement. "That's the place for me," he said; "top rooms, and quiet and secluded. Do you know Lincoln's Inn Fields?" I stared at the paper; it shook and rustled in my fingers. "I wouldn't go there," I said, while a great trembling seized upon me. "I wouldn't go there if I were you." "Why, what's the matter with the man?" He snatched the paper from me, and laughed. "Do you think the place will be too dreary, or too quiet? Or do you think I might see ghosts there?" "I think you might see ghosts there," I replied.