“At length, late one night, Heyling, of whom nothing had been seen for many weeks before, appeared at his attorney`s private residence, and sent up word that a gentleman wished to see him instantly. Before the attorney, who had recognized his voice from above stairs, could order the servant to admit him, he had rushed up the staircase, and entered the drawing-room, pale and breathless. Having closed the door, to prevent being overheard, he sank into a chair, and said, in a low voice: “`Hush! I have found him at last.` “`No!` said the attorney. `Well done, my dear sir; well done.` “`He lies concealed in a wretched lodging in Camden Town,` said Heyling. `Perhaps it is as well we did lose sight of him, for he has been living alone there, in the most abject misery, all the time, and he is poor —very poor.` `“Very good,` said the attorney. `You will have the capture made tomorrow, of course?` “`Yes,` replied Heyling. `Stay! no! The next day. You are surprised at my wishing to postpone it,` he added, with a ghastly smile; `but I had forgotten. The next days is an anniversary in his life: let it be done then.` “`Very good,` said the attorney. `Will you write down instructions for the officer?` “`No; let him meet me here, at eight in the evening, and I will ac-company him myself.`
Pancras Road
“They met on the appointed night, and, hiring a hackney coach, directed the driver to stop at that corner of the old Pancras Road, at which stands the parish workhouse. By the time they alighted there, it was quite dark; and, proceeding by the dead wall in front of the Veterinary Hospital, they entered a small by-street, which is, or was at that time called Little College Street, and which, whatever it may be now, was in those days a desolate place enough, surrounded by little else than fields and ditches. “Having drawn the traveling cap he had on half over his face, and muffled himself in his cloak, Heyling stopped before the meanest-looking house in the street, and knocked gently at the door. It was at once opened by a woman, who dropped a curtsey of recognition, and Heyling, whispering the officer to remain below, crept gently upstairs, and, opening the door of the front room, entered at once. “The object of his search and his unrelenting animosity, now a decrepit old man, was seated at a bare deal table, on which stood a miserable candle. He started on the entrance of the stranger, and rose feebly to his feet.
Read More about The Old Man`s Tale of the Queer Client part 3
