In a moment he was up and gliding through the darkness to meet who was coming, and almost at once a voice hailed him cautiously.

“There you are, Dunn,” Deede Dawson said.  “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.  Tomorrow or next day we shall be able to strike; everything is ready at last, and I’ll tell you now exactly what we are going to do.”

“That’s good news,” said Dunn softly.

“Come this way,” Deede Dawson said, and led Dunn through the darkness to the gate that admitted to the Bittermeads grounds from the high road.

Here he paused, and stood for a long time in silence, leaning on the gate and looking out across the road to the common beyond.  Close beside him stood Dunn, controlling his impatience as best he could, and wondering if at last the secret springs of all these happenings was to be laid bare to him.

But Deede Dawson seemed in no hurry to begin.  For a long time he remained in the same attitude, silent and sombre in the darkness, and when at last he spoke it was to utter a remark that quite took Dunn by surprise.

“What a lovely night,” he said in low and pensive tones, very unlike those he generally used.  “I remember when I was a boy—­that’s a long time ago.”

Dunn was too surprised by this sudden and very unexpected lapse into sentiment to answer.  Deede Dawson went on as if thinking to himself: 

“A long time—­I’ve done a lot—­seen a lot since then—­too much, perhaps—­I remember mother told me once—­poor soul, I believe she used to be rather proud of me—­”

“Your mother?” Dunn said wondering greatly to think this man should still have such memories.

But Deede Dawson seemed either to resent his tone or else to be angry with himself for giving way to such weakness.  In a voice more like his usual one, he said harshly and sneeringly: 

“Oh, yes, I had a mother once, just like everybody else.  Why not?  Most people have their mothers, though it’s not an arrangement I should care to defend.  Now then, Ella was with you tonight; you and she were alone together a long time.”

“Well,” growled Dunn, “what of it?”

“Fine girl, isn’t she?” asked Deede Dawson, and laughed.

Dunn did not speak.  It filled him with such loathing to hear this man so much as utter Ella’s name, it was all he could do to keep his hands motionless by his side and not make use of them about the other’s throat.

“She’s been useful, very useful,” Deede Dawson went on meditatively.  “Her mother had some money when I married her.  I don’t mind telling you it’s all spent now, but Ella’s a little fortune in herself.”

“I didn’t know we came to talk about her,” said Dunn slowly.  “I thought you had something else to say to me.”

“So I have,” Deede Dawson answered.  “That’s why I brought you here.  We are safe from eavesdroppers here, in a house you can never tell who is behind a curtain or a door.  But then, Ella is a part of my plans, a very important part.  Do you remember I told you I might want you to take a second packing-case away from here in the car one night?”