er eyes. I saw now she was very tired. I thought she had
gone to sleep and I looked in front of me puzzling out the problem.
Presently the cab-doors were thrust violently open, and if I had net
held her back, she would have jumped out of the vehicle.

"Look!" she cried, in great excitement. "There! There's Harry's name!"

She pointed to a butcher's cart immediately in front of us, bearing, in
large letters, the name of "E. Robinson."

"We must stop," she went on. "He will tell us about Harry."

It took me from Oxford Circus to Portman Square to convince her
that there were many thousands of Robinsons in London and that the
probability of the butcher's cart being a clue to Harry's whereabouts
was exceedingly remote.

At Baker Street station she asked, wearily: "Is it still far to your
house?"

"No," said I, encouragingly. "Not very far."

"But one can drive for many days through streets in London, and there
will be still streets, still houses? So they tell me in Alexandretta.
London is as big as the moon, not so?"

I felt absurdly pleased. She was capable of an idea. I had begun to
wonder whether she were not merely half-witted. The fact of her being
able to read had already cheered me.

"Many hours, yes," I corrected, "not many days. London seems big to
you?"

"Oh, yes," she said, passing her hand over her eyes. "It makes all go
round in my head. One day you will take me for a drive through these
wonderful streets. Now I am too tired. They make my head ache."

Then she shut her eyes again and did not open them until we stopped
at Lingfield Terrace. I modified my first impression of her animal
unimpressionability. She is quite sane. If Boadicea were to be
brought back to life and be set down suddenly at Charing Cross, her
psychological condition would not be far removed from that of an idiot.
Yet in her own environment Boadicea was quite a sane and capable lady.

My admirable man Stenson opened the door and admitted us without moving
a muscle. He would betray no incorrect astonishment if I brought home a
hippogriff to dinner. I have an admiration for the trained serving-man's
imperturbability. It is the guardian angel of his self-respect. I
ordered him to send Antoinette to me in the drawing-room.

"Antoinette," said I, "this young lady has travelled all the way from
Asia Minor, where the good St. Paul had so many adventures, without
changing her things."

"_C'est y Dieu possible_!" said Antoinette.

"