m up on the 'phone and
asked him to lunch, but Micky was not in the mood for lunch; he felt a
suppressed sort of excitement, as if something of great import were
about to happen.

Driver looked at him woodenly once or twice; his face was as
expressionless as his voice, but his dull eyes saw everything, and
behind them his keen brain wondered what had happened to make Micky so
restless.

Towards one o'clock he ventured a gentle reminder.

"You have an engagement for half-past three, sir--Miss Langdon's."

Micky was yawning over the paper then; he looked up with an absurdly
blank face.

"Oh, I say!--well, I can't go, anyway. What was it for? I'm going
out--I've got an important appointment."

Driver never showed surprise at anything if he felt it.

"It was a musical 'At 'Ome,' sir," he answered stolidly. "Shall I ring
up and say that you won't be able to come?"

"Yes, ring up," said Micky. He coloured self-consciously beneath the
man's stoic eyes and hurriedly buried his head again in the
newspaper.

At three o'clock he changed his clothes for an immaculate morning-coat
and grey trousers; then, remembering what Esther had said about the
very horrid boarding-house, he changed them again for the oldest tweed
suit in his possession, and a pair of brown boots that had seen their
best days and long since been condemned by Driver.

"How in the world do I get to Brixton?" Micky asked the man when he
was ready. "I know I could take a taxicab, but I don't want to. What
other ways are there?"

Driver told him.

"There's the train, sir, or a tram."

Micky jumped at the tramcar. He was sure that people who lived in
Brixton must all use tramcars.

"How long would a tramcar take?" he asked.

Driver considered. Finally he said that he thought it might be the
best part of an hour.

Micky glanced at the clock. It was already a quarter past three. He
took up his hat hurriedly and went out into the street.

A taxicab would have to do for to-day anyway. He could dismiss it at
the corner of the road and walk the last few yards. A moment later he
was being whirled through the streets.

He sat leaning back in the corner with his feet up on the seat
opposite, feeling decidedly nervous.

Supposing he did not see Esther--supposing she were not there?
Supposing she had purposely given him the wrong address? Supposing
... oh, supposing a thousand and one things! Micky was full of
apprehension when at last the taxicab stopp