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Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. To be alone with her, in idleness, was an intolerable thought. I pledged my thumb that, dead or alive, I'd pay the wager if I lost; and I should like to be as good as my word. At the gate opening upon the road leading to Dollis Hill were stationed William Morgan and John Dump. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter. Give me your hand.
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