HAPTER II

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

Meanwhile, Sir George and his daughter were waiting impatiently for
Copley. As they stood, the fashionable stream hurried by them. The road
outside was crammed with cabs and 'buses and motors, for all the
theatres were discharging their audiences. The street was one seething
mass when Copley joined his friends. They pressed together towards the
pavement, and Copley could scarcely conceal his annoyance that his car
was not in attendance. He supposed there was some misunderstanding and
suggested that it would save time if they took a cab.

"We might have some difficulty in getting two cabs," he said. "One of us
had better walk."

"I'll walk," Sir George answered. "I haven't had any exercise to-day,
and it will give me an appetite for supper."

May looked up vaguely alarmed. She had no fancy for a drive to the
Carlton in the company of Raymond Copley.

"Wouldn't it be better to walk along till we come to the end of the
street?" she proposed. "There would be more chance of getting a cab when
we are out of the crush."

Without waiting for a reply she stepped on to the pavement. In his
aggressive way Copley elbowed a clear path. The road seemed to be fuller
than ever of vehicles. Then there rose the quick cry of a woman's voice,
the sound of clashing metal, and before any one could realize it two
motors had overturned. Instantly all was confusion, and five minutes
later May found herself on the other side of the street alone and
presenting a somewhat conspicuous figure in her evening dress and cloak.

She was not frightened or alarmed. She had too much pluck and courage
for that. She thought the best thing would be to turn down this dark
side street and make her way to the Haymarket.

She walked quietly and fearlessly along, the road getting narrower as
she went. She passed one or two men who made audible remarks upon her
appearance, but she did not heed them. And, then, almost before she knew
what had happened, a man by her side began to pester her with remarks
which brought the blood flaming to her face. That the nighthawk was not
sober did not tend to improve the situation.

She looked about for some one to appeal to, and with sudden thankfulness
heard steps hurrying behind. Next moment she saw her tormentor lying on
his back in the gutter with another man standing over him.

"I am glad to be of assistance to you," the stranger said. "If you will
allow me to walk with you as