He took a bed for himself in a humbler and cheaper house farther west, a little nearer to the house of his enemy; and almost all that day he spent in thinking how and where he should obtain the meeting he longed for.  He understood at once that it would be hopeless to attempt such an interview at Grosvenor Place.  In imagination he saw himself escorted by servants to that tank-like room at the back of the mansion—­the room where the man had treated him as dirt, where his first instinct of distrust had been aroused, where all those photographs of girls had subtly suggested the questioning doubts that led him on to suspicion and discovery.  The man would come again to this room, with his tired eyes and baggy cheeks and drooping lip; would stare contemptuously; and at the first words of abuse, he would ring a bell, call for servants, call for the police, and have the visitor ignominiously turned out.  “Policeman, this ruffian has been threatening me.  He is an ill-conditioned dog that I’ve been systematically kind to, and he now seems to have taken leave of his senses and accuses me of injuring him.  For the sake of his wife, who is a good respectful sort of person, I do not give him in charge.  But I ask you to keep an eye on him.  And if he dares to return to my door, just cart him off to the police station.”  No, that would not do at all.  He and Mr. Barradine must meet somewhere quietly and comfortably, out of reach of electric bells, butlers, and police officers.

That first night after the confession he slept sound and long.  In the morning when he woke, feeling refreshed and strengthened, his determination to bring about the interview had assumed an iron firmness, as if all night it had been beaten on the anvil of his thoughts while he lay idle.  But he was no nearer to devising a scheme that should give effect to the determination.

Mr. Barradine had said that he was going down to the Abbey to-morrow, or next day, Friday, at latest; and in the course of this Wednesday morning Dale decided that the interview must be delayed.  It was impossible up here.  It would be much easier to arrange down there.  He must wait until Mr. Barradine went down to Hampshire, and go down after him.  He could call at the Abbey, where the man would be more accessible than up here; and, by restraining himself, by simulating his usual manner, by lulling the man to a false security, he could lure him out of the house—­get him out into the open air, away from his servants, perhaps beyond the gardens and as far off as the park copses.  Then when they were alone, they two, at a distance from the possibility of interruption, Dale could drop the mask of subservience, turn upon him, and say “Now—­”

No, that would not do.  It was all childish.  For a thousand obscure reasons it would not do at all.