He was not long gone, and returned with a flushed face, and the deposit receipt still in his hand.

‘No go, Mr. Anne,’ says he.

‘How’s that?’ I inquired,

‘Well, sir, I found the place all right, and no mistake,’ said he.  ’But I tell you what gave me a blue fright!  There was a customer standing by the door, and I reckonised him!  Who do you think it was, Mr. Anne?  W’y, that same Red-Breast—­him I had breakfast with near Aylesbury.’

‘You are sure you are not mistaken?’ I asked.

‘Certain sure,’ he replied.  ’Not Mr. Lavender, I don’t mean, sir; I mean the other party.  “Wot’s he doing here?’ says I. It don’t look right."’

‘Not by any means,’ I agreed.

I walked to and fro in the apartment reflecting.  This particular Bow Street runner might be here by accident; but it was to imagine a singular play of coincidence that he, who had met Rowley and spoken with him in the ‘Green Dragon,’ hard by Aylesbury, should be now in Scotland, where he could have no legitimate business, and by the doors of the bank where Rowley kept his account.

‘Rowley,’ said I, ‘he didn’t see you, did he?’

‘Never a fear,’ quoth Rowley.  ’W’y Mr. Anne, sir, if he ’ad, you wouldn’t have seen me any more!  I ain’t a hass, sir!’

’Well, my boy, you can put that receipt in your pocket.  You’ll have no more use for it till you’re quite clear of me.  Don’t lose it, though; it’s your share of the Christmas-box:  fifteen hundred pounds all for yourself.’

‘Begging your pardon, Mr. Anne, sir, but wot for!’ said Rowley.

‘To set up a public-house upon,’ said I.

’If you’ll excuse me, sir, I ain’t got any call to set up a public-house, sir,’ he replied stoutly.  ’And I tell you wot, sir, it seems to me I’m reether young for the billet.  I’m your body servant, Mr. Anne, or else I’m nothink.’

‘Well, Rowley,’ I said, ’I’ll tell you what it’s for.  It’s for the good service you have done me, of which I don’t care—­and don’t dare—­to speak.  It’s for your loyalty and cheerfulness, my dear boy.  I had meant it for you; but to tell you the truth, it’s past mending now—­it has to be yours.  Since that man is waiting by the bank, the money can’t be touched until I’m gone.’

‘Until you’re gone, sir?’ re-echoed Rowley.  ’You don’t go anywheres without me, I can tell you that, Mr. Anne, sir!’

‘Yes, my boy,’ said I, ’we are going to part very soon now; probably to-morrow.  And it’s for my sake, Rowley!  Depend upon it, if there was any reason at all for that Bow Street man being at the bank, he was not there to look out for you.  How they could have found out about the account so early is more than I can fathom; some strange coincidence must have played me false!  But there the fact is; and Rowley, I’ll not only have to say farewell to you presently, I’ll have to ask you to stay indoors until I can say it.  Remember, my boy, it’s only so that you can serve me now.’