d to be followed, seem to have eyes in the
backs of their heads, and instinct to divine when somebody is after them.
This inexperienced girl, who had missed seeing many things our readers
have seen, observed in merely passing her window a seedy man in the
courtyard of the hotel. Would you believe it, she instantly recognized
the man who had opened her cab door for her in Lincoln's Inn Fields.
Quick as lightning it passed through her mind, "Why do I see the same
figure at Lincoln's Inn Fields and at Charing Cross?" At various
intervals she passed the window; and twice she saw the man again. She
pondered, and determined to try a little experiment. Robert Penfold, it
may be remembered, had mentioned an expert as one of the persons she was
to see. She had looked for his name in the Directory; but experts were
not down in the book. Another fatality! But at last she had found
Undercliff, a lithographer, and she fancied that must be the same person.
She did not hope to learn much from him; the newspapers said his evidence
had caused a smile. She had a distinct object in visiting him, the nature
of which will appear. She ordered a cab, and dressed herself. She came
down, and entered the cab; but, instead of telling the man to drive, she
gave him a slip of paper, containing the address of the lithographer.
"Drive there," said she, a little mysteriously. The cabman winked,
suspecting an intrigue, and went off to the place. There she learned Mr.
Undercliff had moved to Frith Street, Soho, number not known. She told
the cabman to drive slowly up and down the street, but could not find the
name. At last she observed some lithographs in a window. She let the
cabman go all down the street, then stopped him, and paid him off. She
had no sooner done this than she walked very briskly back, and entered
the little shop, and inquired for Mr. Undercliff. He was out, and not
expected back for an hour. "I will wait," said Helen; and she sat down
with her head upon her white hand. A seedy man passed the window rapidly
with a busy air. And, if his eye shot a glance into the shop, it was so
slight and careless nobody could suspect he was a spy and had done his
work effectually as he flashed by. In that moment the young lady, through
the chink of her fingers, which she had opened for that purpose, not only
recognized the man, but noticed his face, his hat, his waistcoat, his
dirty linen, and the pin in his necktie.

"Ah!" said she, and flushed to t