e bell.

XVII

When the cab debouched again into St. James' Street, Winton gave the
order: "Quick as you can!" One could think better going fast! A little
red had come into his brown cheeks; his eyes under their half-drawn lids
had a keener light; his lips were tightly closed; he looked as he did
when a fox was breaking cover. Gyp could do no wrong, or, if she could,
he would stand by her in it as a matter of course. But he was going
to take no risks--make no frontal attack. Time for that later, if
necessary. He had better nerves than most people, and that kind of
steely determination and resource which makes many Englishmen of his
class formidable in small operations. He kept his cab at the door, rang,
and asked for Gyp, with a kind of pleasure in his ruse.

"She's not in yet, sir. Mr. Fiorsen's in."

"Ah! And baby?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll come in and see her. In the garden?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dogs there, too?"

"Yes, sir. And will you have tea, please, sir?"

"No, thanks." How to effect this withdrawal without causing gossip, and
yet avoid suspicion of collusion with Gyp? And he added: "Unless Mrs.
Fiorsen comes in."

Passing out into the garden, he became aware that Fiorsen was at the
dining-room window watching him, and decided to make no sign that he
knew this. The baby was under the trees at the far end, and the dogs
came rushing thence with a fury which lasted till they came within scent
of him. Winton went leisurely up to the perambulator, and, saluting
Betty, looked down at his grandchild. She lay under an awning of muslin,
for fear of flies, and was awake. Her solemn, large brown eyes, already
like Gyp's, regarded him with gravity. Clucking to her once or twice,
as is the custom, he moved so as to face the house. In this position, he
had Betty with her back to it. And he said quietly:

"I'm here with a message from your mistress, Betty. Keep your head;
don't look round, but listen to me. She's at Bury Street and going to
stay there; she wants you and baby and the dogs." The stout woman's
eyes grew round and her mouth opened. Winton put his hand on the
perambulator. "Steady, now! Go out as usual with this thing. It's about
your time; and wait for me at the turning to Regent's Park. I'll come on
in my cab and pick you all up. Don't get flurried; don't take anything;
do exactly as you usually would. Understand?"

It is not in the nature of stout women with babies in their charge to
receive such an