“Won’t I, just!” cried Mr. Parish.  “And you’ll come and have some supper?”

“I can’t promise; I may want to ask you to do something for me.  Just you be ready, that’s all.”

He promised exultingly, and when the evening came took up his position a full hour before Polly could be expected to come forth.

Now this was the first night of a new piece at Polly’s theatre, and she, long watching in vain for the reappearance of the lady whose address she was to discover for Mr. Gammon, thought it a very possible thing that a person who had been twice to see the old entertainment might attend the first performance of the new.  Her mysterious uncle had never again communicated with her, and Polly began to doubt what Mr. Gammon’s knowledge really was; but she had given her confidence beyond recall, and, though with many vicissitudes of feeling, she still wished to keep Gammon sole ally in this strange affair.  Once or twice indeed she had felt disposed to tell Christopher that there was “someone else”; but nothing Gammon had said fully justified this, and Polly, though an emotional young woman, had a good deal of prudence.  One thing was certain, she very much desired to bring her old enemy to the point of a declaration.  How she would receive it when it came she could not wholly determine.

Her conjecture regarding the unknown lady was justified.  Among the first who entered the stalls was a man whom Polly seemed to remember, and close behind him came first a younger lady, then the one for whom her eyes had searched night after night.  In supplying them with programmes Polly observed and listened with feverish attention.  The elder woman had slightly grizzled hair; her age could not be less than fifty, but she was in good health and spirits.  With the intention of describing her to Gammon, Polly noticed that she had a somewhat masculine nose, high in the bridge.

A quarter of an hour before the end of the piece Polly, dressed for departure, came forth and discovered her faithful slave.

“Now listen to me,” she said, checking his blandishments.  “I told you there might be something to do for me, and there is.”

Parish was all eagerness.

“There’ll be three people coming out from the stalls, a gentleman and two ladies.  I’ll show you them—­see?  They’ll drive off in a kerridge—­see?  And I want you to find out where they go.”

Nothing could have been more startling to Christopher, in whose mind began a whirl of suspicions and fears.

“Why?  What for?” he asked involuntarily.

Polly was short with him.

“All right, if you won’t do it say so, and I’ll ask somebody else.  I’ve no time to lose.”

He gasped and stammered.  Yes, yes, of course he would do it.  He had not dreamt of refusing.  He would run after the carriage, however far.

“Don’t be a silly.  You’ll have to take a ’ansom and tell the driver to follow—­see?”