Constance's mother never misses a single night; I wonder who she thinks
is going to run away with that puny-faced creature!"

"Oh, if you are at all afraid to make the venture alone, I will go with
you," said he. "I don't suppose I can see farther in a fog than any one
else; but if you are nervous about being alone, you'd better let me
accompany you."

"Will you?" she said, suddenly wheeling round, and bestowing upon him a
glance of obvious gratitude. "That is indeed kind of you! Now I don't
care for all the fogs in Christendom. But really and truly," she
added--"really and truly you must tell me if I am taking you away from
any other engagement."

"Not at all," he said, idly. "I had thought of going up to the Garden
Club for some supper, but it isn't the sort of night for anybody to be
wandering about. When I've left you in the Edgeware Road, I can find my
way to my rooms easily. Once in Park Lane, I could go blindfold."

And very proud and pleased was Miss Burgoyne to accept his escort--that
is to say, when he had, with an immense amount of trouble, brought a
four-wheeled cab, accompanied by two link-boys with blazing torches, up
to the stage-door. And when they had started off on their unknown
journey through this thick chaos, she did not minimize the fears she
otherwise should have suffered; this was thanking him by implication. As
for the route chosen by the cabman, or rather by the link-boys, neither
he nor she had the faintest idea what it was. Outside they could see
nothing but the gold and crimson of the torches flaring through the
densely yellow fog; while the grating of the wheels against the curb
told them that their driver was keeping as close as he could to the
pavement. Then they would find themselves leaving that guidance, and
blindly adventuring out into the open thoroughfare to avoid some
obstacle--some spectral wain or omnibus got hopelessly stranded; while
there were muffled cries and calls here, there, and everywhere. They
went at a snail's pace, of course. Once, at a corner, the near wheels
got on the pavement; the cab tilted over; Miss Burgoyne shrieked aloud
and clung to her companion; then there was a heavy bump, and the
venerable vehicle resumed its slow progress. Suddenly they beheld a
cluster of dim, nebulous, phantom lights high up in air.

"This must be Oxford Circus, surely," Lionel said.

He put his head out of the window and called to the cabman.

"Where are we now, cabby?"

"Bl