I assured him that he would find everything he required; I left the keys with him, explaining carefully which of them fitted the various doors. One thing only I did not tell him: that I had a duplicate key of the outer door, given to me by the agents from whom I had taken the place. They had explained to me that the rooms had been previously occupied by two friends, so that the second key had been necessary. I remember that when that second key came into my hands I felt again that Fate had played her cards well, and had given me all I asked, and more. "I don't quite know what time I shall be there, Tinman," said Olivant, just before I left. "You can hang about a bit if I'm not there, and wait till I come. I'm expecting Jervis Fanshawe to come here this morning; he may have some news for me. By the way, don't blunder over this, Tinman." "Blunder?" I stared at him stupidly. "Yes; don't be telling people that I'm still in London; remember that I've sailed on the Eaglet, and that I'm not coming back for months. Tell everybody that. And if you see Fanshawe at his lodgings, send him to me at once." I decided, of course, that I would not do that in any case. Already I began to fear that what I had said I should do would not be done after all; Fanshawe had guessed my secret, and was going that morning to see Olivant; obviously the first thing he would do would be to put Olivant upon his guard. I wondered how Fanshawe had come to guess what I had believed to be so securely locked in my own heart; I blamed myself that I had not been more careful in guarding the very expression of my face. However, I knew that I must risk all now upon the one throw. The events of that day are stamped clearly enough upon my recollection; almost I seem to see myself walking again through the streets, waiting for the hour when I could make for Lincoln's Inn Fields. Just as on that other occasion, when I had set about a similar business, so now I found myself going back to scenes I knew, and looking again at various places, as it were for the last time. For I had counted my chances; and I knew that even while every door seemed closed that could by any possibility let suspicion in, one might be standing open, and I unable to see it. If once Murray Olivant were recognized, that confidential servant who had been seen about with him must be looked for; must be discovered to be a certain Charles Avaline--who had killed a man before, and barely escaped the gallows for his crime. I counted the chances, and the scale weighed heavily against me. I drifted back in the course of that long day to the rooms from which Murray Olivant must long since have gone, and there caught a glimpse of a lurking figure that I knew must be Arnold Millard. He did not see me; he was doggedly pacing up and down, watching that empty cage, and waiting for his man, who would not come out of that place again.