“Yes,” I said, “I will follow.  When does the first train leave Paddington?”

“At a quarter past nine,” she answered, “and it is now about half-past five.  You have time to catch it; but must disguise yourself first.  He will travel by it, there is no train before.  Come, let me row you ashore.”

With this she untied the painter, got out the sculls, sat down upon the thwart opposite, and began to pull desperately for shore.  I wondered at her strength and skill with the oar.

“Ah,” she said, “I see at what you are wondering.  Remember that I was a sailor’s wife once, and without strength how should I have dragged you on board this boat?”

“How did you manage it?”

“I cannot tell.  I only know that I heard a splash as I waited under the bows there, and then began with my hands to fend the boat around the schooner for dear life.  I had to be very silent.  At first I could see nothing, for it was dark towards the shore; but I cried to Heaven to spare you for vengeance on that man, and then I saw something black lying across the warp, and knew it was you.  I gave a strong push, then rushed to the bows and caught you by the hair.  I got you round by the stern as gently as I could, and then pulled you on board somehow—­I cannot remember exactly how I did it.”

“Did he see you?”

“No, for he must have gone below directly.  I rowed under the shadow of the lighter to which we were tied just now, and as I did so, thought I heard him calling me by name.  He must have forgotten me, and then suddenly remembered that as yet I had not given him the money.  However, presently I heard him getting into his boat and rowing ashore.  He came quite close to us—­so close that I could hear him cursing, and crouched down in the shadow for fear of my life.  But he passed on, and got out at the steps yonder.  It was snowing at the time and that helped me.”

She pulled a stroke or two in silence, and then continued—­

“When you were in the cabin together I was listening.  At one point I think I must have fainted; but it cannot have been for long, for when I came to myself you were still talking about—­about John Railton.”

I remembered the sound which I had heard, and almost in spite of myself asked, “You heard about—­”

“Claire?  Yes, I heard.”  She nodded simply; but her eyes sought mine, and in them was a gleam that made me start.

Just then the boat touched at a mouldering flight of stairs, crusted with green ooze to high-water mark, and covered now with snow.  She made fast the boat.

“This was the way he went,” she muttered.  “Track him, track him to his death; spare him no single pang to make that death miserable!” Her low voice positively trembled with concentrated hate.  “Stay,” she said, “have you money?”

I suddenly remembered that I had given all the money on me to Bagnell for getting out my boat, and told her so.  At the same moment, too, I thought upon the tin box still lying under the boat’s stern.  I stepped aft and pulled it out.