to be listening to her. Why
did the bureau keeper speak so loudly? Then the assurance of the Cockney
came to her aid.

"I don't see why there should be such a fuss about nothing," she said. "I
don't know his people. I saw the gentleman pitched out of a cab and was
sorry for him, so I just called to ask how he was."

She angrily tossed her head, and stared insolently at an old lady who came
to inquire if there were any letters for the Countess of Skerry and Ness.

"No letters, your ladyship," said the man. "And you, miss, must either
send a personal message or see the manager."

The young woman bounced out in a fury, and Brett followed her, silently
thanking the favouring planets which had sent him down the stairs at the
very moment when the girl was proffering her request to the clerk.

Fortunately, the weather was better now. There was a clear sky overhead,
and the streets looked quite cheerful after the steady downpour, London's
myriad lamps being reflected in glistening zigzags across the wet
pavement.

The girl did not head towards the busy Strand, but walked direct to
Charing Cross station on the District Railway.

The barrister thought she intended to go somewhere by train. He quickened
his pace in order to be able to rapidly obtain a ticket and thus keep up
with her. Herein he was lucky. To his surprise, she passed out of the
station on the embankment side.

He followed, and nowhere could he see her. Then he remembered the steps
leading to the footpath along the Hungerford Bridge. Running up these
steps he soon caught sight of the young woman, who was walking rapidly
towards Waterloo.

A man of the artisan class stared at her as she passed, and said something
to her. She turned fiercely.

"Do you want a swipe on the jaw?" she demanded.

No, he did not. What had he done, he would like to know.

"You mind your own business," she said. "Where am I goin', indeed. What's
it got to do with you?"

The episode was valuable to the listening barrister. It classified the
anxious inquirer after Hume's health.

Her abashed admirer hung back, and the girl resumed her onward progress.
The man was conscious that the gentleman behind him must have heard what
passed. He endeavoured to justify himself.

"She's pretty O.T., she is," he grinned.

"Do you know her?" said Brett.

"I know her by sight. Seen her in the York now an' then."

"She can evidently take care of herself."

"Ra--ther. Don't you so much as