She never saw Hawksley again; but that was of no importance.

She had a gentle deed to put away in the lavender of recollection.
Outside Hawksley could see nothing of the man who had bought the cigars.
At any rate, further dodging would be useless.

He would go directly to his destination.

Old Gregor had sent him a duplicate key to the apartment.

He could hide there for a day or two; then visit Rathbone's banker at his residence in the night to establish his identity.