When he looked again the man was moving away. At
once recognition rushed upon him like a wave of light. The terribly
worn, ghastly features resolved themselves into a kind of death-mask of
Julius! The wave recoiled and smote him again. Who could the man be,
therefore, who was so like Julius, and yet was not Julius?--who could he
be but Julius's father,--that Hernando Courtney whom Dr Rippon believed
he had seen the evening before?
Here was a coil to unravel! Julius's father--the Spanish marquis that
was--supposed to be dead, but yet wandering in singular fashion about
the London streets, clearly not desiring, much less courting,
opportunities of being recognised; Julius not caring to speak of his
father, apparently ignoring his continued existence, and yet apparently
knowing enough of his movements to avoid him when he came to London by
suddenly removing "into the country" without leaving his address. What
was the meaning of so much mystery? Crime? debt? political intrigue? or,
what?
The mysterious Hernando went on his way, by the southern sweep of
Trafalgar Square and Cockspur Street, to the Haymarket, and Lefevre
followed with attention and curiosity bent on him, but yet with so
little thought of playing spy that, if Hernando had gone any other way
or had returned along the Strand, he would probably have let him go.
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