To that elegant man who passed as a gentleman, and was invited to half the best houses in London, I owed all my present distress and anxiety, while at the same time he was Sybil's enemy, the man who held her future in his merciless hands. I watched him out of sight, and then turning upon my heel went back citywards. That night, just before eight, I strolled along the Marylebone Road, and slowly passed Baker Street Station and along by Madame Tussaud's, without, however, seeing traces of anyone. A couple of newsboys were idling on the kerb gossiping, but all else was bustle, and there were no lingerers. I could not well remain there fearing lest Winsloe or any of his associates who knew me might recognise me. Therefore I was compelled to stroll up and down on the opposite side of the way, my eyes eager to discern any man who halted there in expectation. One man dressed like a City clerk came to a sudden standstill just after eight, looked at his watch and peered inside the station. But I was disappointed, for a few moments later a young woman, in brown, probably his sweetheart, met him, and they both walked away in company. Again a second man emerged from the station and stood for a long time in indecision. He, too, was keeping an appointment, for he was joined presently by a much older man, and they went into a neighbouring saloon-bar. Half-past eight struck; even nine o'clock. But the appointment was not kept. Perhaps the mysterious Nello had not seen the message? I was beginning to fear that such was the case, or that my ruse had failed, when a dark-eyed rather handsome young girl, dressed plainly, like a shop assistant, alighted from a hansom about a hundred yards from the station, paid the driver, and hurriedly approached the spot where I stood. She took no notice of my presence, but crossing the roadway entered the station and searched eagerly everywhere as though she were late for her appointment. She came forth again upon the pavement, looked up and down, and then strolled patiently along the kerb. She never gave me a single glance. This fact I noted, causing me to wonder if she were not waiting for a woman. Was she awaiting Sybil? Could she be a messenger from the mysterious Nello, in whom my dainty little friend seemed to place such implicit trust? I crossed the road and idled past her in order to get a good look at her face. Then I sauntered on, wondering and perplexed. CHAPTER TWENTY. CONTAINS ANOTHER SURPRISE. For some twenty minutes or so I watched her, undecided whether she were actually the representative of the mysterious Nello, or whether she was merely a shop-girl in the vicinity who expected to meet a friend.