What could he do, indeed? The very same night he took up his own pen and wrote a note to Mister Davidson, the only thing he could think to do at the time. Yet another meeting in confidence was set between the two, after a bit of correspondence, after several such letters had passed between them. But of course, Mister Davidson's continuously hectic schedule normally allowed for little of such things. Regardless, a time was set.
It was early two days after Mister Brennan's reception of the Lady Caroline's letter that he, with said letter in hand, departed for a large private property where Mister Davidson liked to walk when he was able. The sun had not yet broken the horizon when he quietly shut his door behind him, and the moon still hung in the sky. He didn't give it a second glance as he hurried to the north where they were to meet. Aside from the occasional tentative glance at a street sign or the low light of a still-burning lamp in a window, his eyes remained on the road before him