"That" was undoubtedly the tingle of a handful of gravel against the panes of the window.
"A sign that the coast is quite clear and that you have not been followed, dear friend," said a voice--Cleek's voice--in reply. "Shall we not sit down? I'm famishing." And as Narkom turned round on his heel--with the certainty that no one had entered the room since the door was closed and he himself before it--the tea cosy was whipped off by a hand that no longer shook, the waiter's bent figure straightened, his pale, drawn features writhed, blent, settled into placid calmness and--the thing was done!
"By all that's wonderful--Cleek!" blurted out Narkom, delightedly, and lurched toward him.
"Sh-h-h! Gently, gently, my friend," he interposed, putting up a warning hand. "It is true Dollops has signalled that there is no one in the vicinity likely to hear, but although the maid is both deaf and dumb, recollect that Mrs. Condiment is neither; and I have no more wish for her to discover my real calling than I ever had."
"Mrs. Condiment?" repeated Narkom, sinking his voice, and speaking in a tone of agitation and amazement. "You don't mean to tell me that the old woman you employed as housekeeper when you lived in Clarges Street is here?"
"Certainly; she is the landlady. Her assistant is that same deaf and dumb maid-of-all-work who worked with her at the old house, and is sharing with her a sort of 'retirement' here. 'Captain Burbage' set the pair of them up in business here two days after his departure from Clarges Street and pays them a monthly wage sufficient to make up for any lack of 'custom.' All that they are bound to do is to allow a pensioner of the captain's--a poor old half-witted ex-waiter called Joseph--to come and go as he will and to gratify a whim for waiting upon people if he chooses to do so. What's that? No, the 'captain' does not live here. He and his henchman, Dollops, are supposed to be out of the country. Mrs. Condiment does not know _where_ he lives--nor will she ever be permitted to do so. You may, some day, perhaps----that is for the future to decide; but not at present, my dear friend; it is too risky."
"Why risky, old chap? Surely I can come and go in disguise as I did in the old days, Cleek? We managed secret visits all right then, remember."