no
masquerading. Let me tell you, Wilson has a vicious sword, and a temper
no less vicious. You have touched him on his very sorest spot. He has
gone to meet you this vary hour. His coach will be at Bloomsbury Square
this afternoon, and there he will await you. I promise you he is eager
as yourself. 'Tis too late now to accommodate this matter, even had you
not sent back so prompt and bold an answer."

"I have sent him no answer at all!" cried Law. "I have not seen
Castleton at all."

"Oh, come!" expostulated Sir Arthur, his face showing a flush of
annoyance.

"Sir Arthur," continued Law, as he raised his head, "I am of the
misfortune to be but young in London, and I am in need of your
friendship. I find myself pressed for rapid transportation. Pray you,
give me your mount, for I must have speed. I shall not need the service
of your seconding. Indulge me now by asking no more, and wait until we
meet again. Give me the horse, and quickly."

"But you must be seconded!" cried the other. "This is too unusual.
Consider!" Yet all the time he was giving a hand at the stirrup of Law,
who sprang up and was off before he had time to formulate his own
wonder.

"Who and what is he?" muttered the young nobleman to himself as he gazed
after the retreating form. "He rides well, at least, as he does
everything else well. 'Till I return,' forsooth, 'till I return!' Gad! I
half wish you had never come in the first place, my Bloody Scotland!"

As for Law, he rode swiftly, asking at times his way, losing time here,
gaining it again there, creating much hatred among foot folk by his
tempestuous speed, but giving little heed to aught save his own purpose.
In time he reached Bradwell Street and flung himself from his panting
horse in front of the dingy door of the lodging house. He rushed up the
stairs at speed and threw open the door of the little room. It was
empty.

There was no word to show what his brother had done, whither he had
gone, when he would return. Around the lodgings in Bradwell Street lay a
great and unknown London, with its own secrets, its own hatreds, its own
crimes. A strange feeling of on-coming ill seized upon the heart of Law,
as he stood in the center of the dull little room, now suddenly grown
hateful to him. He dashed his hand upon the table, and stood so, scarce
knowing which way to turn. A foot sounded in the hallway, and he went to
the door. The ancient landlady confronted him. "Where has my brother
go