"But come
across the road. It'll be safer on the common. Deede Dawson is
so cunning one is never safe from him. One can never be sure
he isn't creeping up behind."
"Well, I daresay it's wise to take every precaution," observed
Walter. "But I can't imagine either him or any one else getting
near you without your knowledge."
Robert Dunn,--or rather, Rupert Dunsmore, as was his name by
right of birth--laughed again to himself, very softly in the
darkness.
"Perhaps not," he said. "But I take no chances I can avoid with
Deede Dawson. Come along."
They crossed the road together and sat down on the common at an
open spot, where none could well approach them unheard or unseen.
Dunn laid his hand affectionately on Walter's shoulder as they
settled themselves.
"Old chap," he said. "It was good of you to come here. You've run
some risk. It's none too safe near Bittermeads. But I'm glad to
see you, Walter. It's a tremendous relief after all this strain of
doubt and watching and suspicion to be with some one I know--some
one I can trust--some one like you, Walter."
In the darkness, Walter put out his hand and took Dunn's and held
it for a moment.
"I have been anxious about you," he said. Dunn returned the
pressure warmly.
"I know," he said. "Jove, old chap, it's good to see you again.
You don't know what it's like after all this long time, feeling that
every step was a step in the dark, to be at last with a real friend
again.
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