Chapter 10: Between 13 and 14, Rosemary Street.

A church clock struck as we rolled along.

“That sounds like nine—a quarter-past eleven. What shall you do if we can’t get in at all?”

“Not get into my own house? My dear, this is not a case of Cardew and Slaughter’s. What is going to keep me out of my own house—if I choose to enter it with the milk!—I should like to know.”

I did not know. I could not even guess. But all the same I had a sort of feeling that someone could—and might. “My own house” came glibly from her tongue. That morning there had been ten shillings between her and the workhouse; already she had become quite the woman of established means. I might have been the same had the case been mine. You never know. It must be so nice to have something of your very own.

We were nearing the Westminster Bridge Road. Again the driver spoke to us from above; he had hardly slackened pace the whole of the way.

“Coast clear, miss; not had a sight of the party since we lost him. Where shall I put you down?”

“I’ll stop you in a minute; keep on to the left.” Pollie spoke to me. “What did it say in the letter was the name of the street in which is the entrance to the back door?”

“Rosemary Street.”

“Of course! I couldn’t remember its stupid name.”

“But I shouldn’t tell him to put us down just there. You don’t know who may be waiting for us.”

I was leaning over the front of the cab, keeping a sharp look-out. There were the crowded trams and omnibuses, and many people on the pavements; but I noticed nothing in any way suspicious.

“Who should be waiting for us? Haven’t we shaken Mr. Lander off? Didn’t the cabman say so?”

“Yes. But—you never know.”

“What do you mean? What are you driving at?”

“Nothing. Only it’s past nine. The letter said that it was the time your greatest peril began.”

“What nonsense you do talk! Do you think I pay attention to such stuff? Lucky I’m not nervous, or you’d give me the fidgets. The sooner everybody understands that I intend to go in and out of my own house at any time I please the less trouble there is likely to be. I’m not a child, to be told at what time I’m to come home.”

I was silent. She spoke boldly enough; a trifle too boldly I thought. There was an unnecessary amount of vigour in her tone, as if she wished to impress the whole world with the fact that she was not in the least concerned. But she acted on the hint all the same—she stopped the cab before we reached our destination.

“It’s all right now, miss,” said the driver. It was rather a novel sensation for us to be riding in cabs, and the fare we paid him did make a hole in one’s purse. It was lucky there was that four hundred and eighty-eight pounds nineteen shillings and sixpence to fall back upon. “You’ve seen the last of that fine gentleman, for to-night at any rate. Good-night, miss, and thank you.”

I was not so sure that it was all right. We might have seen the last of “that fine gentleman,” as the cabman called Mr. Lander, though there was nothing particularly “fine” about him that I could see; but there might be other gentlemen, still less “fine,” who had yet to be interviewed. When the hansom had driven off, as we walked along the pavement, I felt more and more uncomfortable, though I would not have hinted at anything of the kind to Pollie for worlds.

“Have we passed Camford Street?” she wondered. “I don’t know which side of it is Rosemary Street.”

“I’m sure I don’t. You had better ask.”

We were standing at the corner of a narrow street, a pretty dark and deserted one it seemed. Pollie turned to make enquiries of some passer-by. A man came towards us.

“Can you tell me which is Rosemary Street?” she said.

“This way! this way!”

He took her by the arm and led her into a gloomy-looking street, as if he were showing her the way. She must have been purblind, or completely off her guard, to have been tricked by him so easily, because directly he spoke I recognised him as the person in the long black coat who had fled from Mr. Lander. I myself was taken by surprise, or I would have called out and warned her. But I suppose that I was bewildered by his sudden and wholly unexpected appearance, because, instead of bidding her look out, I went after her into the narrow lane, for really it seemed to be no more.

The moment we were round the corner two other figures appeared out of the darkness as if by magic. But by now Pollie had taken the alarm.