lunged into a hansom wanting a fare.

"The carriage--friends of mine--that carriage!"

"Ketch 'em up?" asked the driver briskly.

"No--same 'ouse--follow!"

As he flung himself into the vehicle he seriously feared he was on the
point of breaking a blood vessel, never had he been at such extremity
of breath. But his eyes clung to the brougham in dread lest he should
lose sight of it, or confuse it with another. The driver whipped his
horse. Thank goodness, the carriage remained well in sight. But if
there should come a block! A perilous point was Piccadilly Circus.
Never, it seemed to him, had the streets of London roared with such a
tumult of traffic. Right! The Circus was passed; now Piccadilly with
its blessed quietness. What a speed they kept! Hyde Park Corner,
Knightsbridge, and--what road was that? Christopher's geography failed
him; he pretended to no familiarity with the West End. On swept his
hansom in what he felt to be a most impudent pursuit; nay, for all he
knew, it might subject him to the suspicion of the police. The cabby
need not follow so close; why, the horse's nose all but touched the
brougham now and then. How much farther? How was he to get back? He
could not possibly reach home till one in the morning.

The brougham made a sharp curve, the hansom followed. Then came a
sudden stop.

CHAPTER XV

THE NAME OF GILDERSLEEVE

A square--imposing houses about a space of verdure. That was what
Christopher perceived as he looked wildly round, flung back the apron,
jumped out. His position was awful; voices of the persons alighting
from the brougham seemed to sound at his very ear; he had become one of
the party; the man in evening dress stared at him. But even in this
dread moment so bent was he on fulfilling his mission that he at once
cast an eye over the front of the house to fix it in his memory. There
was a magnificent display of flowers at every window; the houses
immediately right and left had no flowers at all.

Then he fumbled for money. Coppers, a sixpence, a shilling, no other
small change, and he durst not offer so little as eighteenpence.
(However, Heaven be thanked! the people had gone in and the brougham
was moving away.) In his purse he had half a sovereign.

"Got change?" he inquired as boldly as possible.

"How much?" returned the driver curtly, for he had noticed with
curiosity that his fare exchanged no greeting with the carriage people
and that the door was shut.