"Yes," I said. "I only hope we sha'n't be discovered. I must be careful--for I shall be compelled to lead a double life. I may be followed one day." "Yes, but it is for my sake, Wilfrid," she exclaimed, placing her small trembling hand upon my arm. "Remember that by doing this you are saving my life. Had it not been for you I should have been dead three days ago. My life is entirely in your hands. I am in deadly peril," she added, in a low, desperate whisper. "You have promised to save me--and you will, Wilfrid--I know you will!" And she gripped my arm tightly, and looked into my face. Notwithstanding her assumed gaiety of manner, she was in terror. Was that dead, white face still haunting her--the face of the stranger who had, in secret, fallen by her hand? CHAPTER TEN. EXPLAINS CERTAIN IMPORTANT FACTS. That night she remained at a small quiet hotel near Waterloo Station, a place patronised by third-class passengers from the West of England, and at ten o'clock next morning I called for her. To disguise oneself as a working-man is no easy matter. I had experienced one difficulty which I had not foreseen, namely, how to allay the suspicions of my man, Budd, when he found me going out in the cheap clothes and hat I had purchased at an outfitter's in the Lambeth Road on the previous night. On getting up I dressed myself in them, and then examined myself in the glass. I cut a figure that was, in my eyes, ridiculous. The suit bore a stiff air and odour of newness that was tantalising, yet I saw no way of altering it, save by pressing out the creases, and with that object I called Budd, who first looked me up and down, and then regarded me as though I had taken leave of my senses. "Is that a new suit, sir?" he asked, scrutinising it. "Yes, Budd," I replied. "Now, you see what it is. I want to appear like a working-man," I added confidentially. "The truth is I'm watching somebody, though, of course, you'll say nothing." "Of course not, sir," he answered discreetly, for he was a reliable servant. Then I took counsel with him how to take off the palpable newness of the clothes, and he, like the clever valet he was, took them out, and after a while returned with them greatly improved. So when dressed in a cheap cotton shirt, a dark red tie, a suit of dark grey tweed, and a drab cap, I at last looked the typical working-man from South London wearing his best clothes. With Budd's ready assistance I slipped out of my chambers into Bolton Street, and half an hour later arrived by omnibus at the obscure hotel where Tibbie awaited me. When she saw me she smiled merrily; and when we were alone together in the Waterloo Bridge Road she burst out laughing, saying,-- "What an interesting pair we really do make. Your get-up is delightful, Wilfrid. You look a real compositor. But just put your cap a little on one side--it's more graceful. What does Budd say?"