er white muslin dress on the veranda steps,
and a wistaria vine climbing the post beside her, half-embowering her.
How cool and sweet and good she looked! How dear--and how _kind_!--she
had always been to him.

Dusk stole through the windows: the music ceased and the tea-hour was
over. The carriages were departing, bearing the gay people who went
away laughing, calling last words to one another, and, naturally, quite
unaware that a young man, who, five days before, had adopted them and
called them "his own," was lying in a darkened room above them, and
crying like a child upon his pillow.

X. The Cab at the Corner

A ten o'clock, a page bearing a card upon a silver tray knocked upon the
door, and stared with wide-eyed astonishment at the disordered gentleman
who opened it.

The card was Lady Mount-Rhyswicke's. Underneath the name was written:

If you are there will you give me a few minutes? I am waiting in a cab
at the next corner by the fountain.

Mellin's hand shook as he read. He did not doubt that she came as an
emissary; probably they meant to hound him for payment of the note
he had given Sneyd, and at that thought he could have shrieked with
hysterical laughter.

"Do you speak English?" he asked.

"Spik little. Yes."

"Who gave you this card?"

"Coachman," said the boy. "He wait risposta."

"Tell him to say that I shall be there in five minutes."

"Fi' minute. Yes. Good-by."

Mellin was partly dressed--he had risen half an hour earlier and
had been distractedly pacing the floor when the page knocked--and he
completed his toilet quickly. He passed down the corridors, descended by
the stairway (feeling that to use the elevator would be another abuse of
the confidence of the hotel company) and slunk across the lobby with the
look and the sensations of a tramp who knows that he will be kicked into
the street if anybody catches sight of him.

A closed cab stood near the fountain at the next corner. There was a
trunk on the box by the driver, and the roof was piled with bags and
rugs. He approached uncertainly.

"Is--is this--is it Lady Mount-Rhyswicke?" he stammered pitifully.

She opened the door.

"Yes. Will you get in? We'll just drive round the block if you don't
mind. I'll bring you back here in ten minutes." And when he had
tremulously complied, "_Avanti, cocchiere_," she called to the driver,
and the tired little cab-horse began to draw them slowly along the
deserted street.