h distinct deliberation--
"I'm afraid you must excuse me now, Vincent; I have to take Mr. Wyndham
to call on my uncle Dean Craven."
The look that she turned on Wyndham said plainly, "You see I'm
desperate. If you haven't enough chivalry to back that up, I'm done
for."
Happily for her, this time Wyndham's chivalry was equal to his
intelligence. He answered in the most natural manner possible--
"If Miss Craven is ready, I am. As I'm rather late, I think we'd better
take a hansom."
They left Hardy stupefied with astonishment.
As they drove towards Charing Cross, she turned to Wyndham and said--
"Forgive my making use of you. Had you any other engagement?"
"I have no engagements."
"I am glad. It was the only thing I could think of to get rid of him. If
you had left me, he would have stayed; if I had gone out by myself, he
would have followed. But it was good of you to stand by me like that."
"Not at all. I'm delighted to call on Dean Craven, still more delighted
to be of service to you."
"Thank you."
They said no more till, as they came in sight of the Hotel Metropole, he
turned to her with a smile--
"Do you remember Mr. Jackson?"
"Mr. Jackson?--Mr. Jackson?" She shook her head. "Oh yes, of course I
do. At Oxford, that night? Whatever put him into your head, of all
people?"
"Dean Craven, I suppose. Ridiculous association of ideas."
"Mr. Jackson--I wonder why such people exist."
"So do I. Do you know, I've hated Mr. Jackson with a deadly hatred for
the last month."
"Why, whatever has he done?"
"Nothing. But if it hadn't been for him I should have known you a year
ago."
The hansom drew up. She sank back into her corner and held out her hand.
"I'll say good-bye now. I'm not equal to seeing them, after all. You can
tell them you've seen me, and that I meant to call."
"Very well. Is he to drive you straight home?"
"Yes, please. But tell him to go the longest way round, by Fulham--or
anywhere."
He said good-bye, got out, and gave the order to the driver. As the
hansom turned up Northumberland Avenue, he caught a side view of the
pathetic little face through the window. Then she was whirled away from
him, towards Fulham--or anywhere. He stood looking after her till the
sound of the horse's bells was lost in the roar of Charing Cross.
Then he remembered that he had once said she would be "capable of
anything."
CHAPTER XVIII
Hardy left the house five minutes aft
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