Laverick had no engagements for that evening, but instead of going to his club he drove straight to his rooms, meaning to change a little early for dinner and go to a theatre, lie found there, however, a small boy waiting for him with a note in his hand. It was addressed in pencil only, and his name was printed upon it.
Laverick tore it open with a haste which he only imperfectly concealed. There was something ominous to him in those printed characters. Its contents, however, were short enough.
DEAR LAVERICK, I must see you. Come the moment you get this. Come without fail, for your own sake and mine. A. M.
Laverick looked at the boy. His fingers were trembling, but it was with relief. The note was from Morrison.
"There is no address here," he remarked.
"The gent said as I was to take you back with me," the boy answered.
"Is it far?" Laverick asked.
"Close to Red Lion Square," the boy declared. "Not more nor five minutes in one of them taxicabs. The gent said we was to take one. He is in a great hurry to see you."
Laverick did not hesitate a moment.
"Very well," he said, "we'll start at once."
He put on his hat again and waited while the commissionaire called them a taxicab.
"What address?" he asked.
"Number 7, Theobald Square," the boy said. Laverick nodded and repeated the address to the driver.
"What the dickens can Morrison be doing in a part like that!" he thought, as they passed up Northumberland Avenue.