The magnificent woman was to be waiting for him in the lounge of the
Royal York Hotel at a quarter to four. She was coming in to Brighton by
the Rottingdean omnibus, which function, unless the driver changes his
mind, occurs once in every two or three hours. He, being under the
necessity of telephoning to London on urgent business, had hired a
bicycle and ridden in. Despite the accident to this prehistoric machine,
he arrived at the Royal York half a minute before the Rottingdean
omnibus passed through the Old Steine and set down the magnificent woman
his wife. The sight of her stepping off the omnibus really did thrill
him. They entered the hotel together, and, accustomed though the Royal
York is to the reception of magnificent women, Olive made a sensation
therein. As for him, he could not help feeling just as though he had
eloped with her. He could not help fancying that all the brilliant
company in the lounge was murmuring under the strains of the band: "That
johnny there has certainly eloped with that splendid creature!"
"Ed," she asked, fixing her dark eyes upon him, "is anything the
matter?"
They were having tea at a little Moorish table in the huge bay window of
the lounge.
"No," he said. This was the first lie of his career as a husband. But
truly he could not bring himself to give her the awful shock of telling
her that the Vaillacs were close at hand, that their secret was
discovered, and that their peace and security depended entirely upon the
discretion of little Mimi and upon their not meeting other Vaillacs.
"Then it's having that puncture that has upset you," his wife insisted.
You see her feelings towards him were so passionate that she could not
leave him alone. She was utterly preoccupied by him.
"No," he said guiltily.
"I'm afraid you don't very much care for this place," she went on,
because she knew now that he was not telling her the truth, and that
something, indeed, was the matter.
"On the contrary," he replied, "I was informed that the finest tea and
the most perfect toast in Brighton were to be had in this lounge, and
upon my soul I feel as if I could keep on having tea here for ever and
ever amen!"
He was trying to be gay, but not very successfully.
"I don't mean just here," she said. "I mean all this south coast."
"Well--" he began judicially.
"Oh! Ed!" she implored him. "_Do_ say you don't like it!"
"Why!" he exclaimed. "Don't _you_?"
She shook her head. "I much prefer the north," she remarked.
"Well," he said, "let's go. Say Scarborough."
"You're joking," she murmured. "You adore this south coast."
"Never!" he asserted positively.
"Well, darling," she said, "if you hadn't said first that you didn't
care for it, of course I shouldn't have breathed a word--"
"Let's go to-morrow," he suggested.
"Yes." Her eyes shone.
"First train! We should have to leave Rottingdean at six o'clock a.m."
"How lovely!" she exclaimed. She was enchanted by this idea of a
capricious change of programme. It gave such a sense of freedom, of
irresponsibility, of romance!
"More toast, please," he said to the waiter, joyously.
It cost him no effort to be gay now. He could not have been sad. The
world was suddenly transformed into the best of all possible worlds. He
was saved! They were saved! Yes, he could trust Mimi. By no chance would
they be caught. They would stick in their rooms all the evening, and on
the morrow they would be away long before the Vaillacs were up. Papa and
"mamma" Vaillac were terrible for late rising. And when he had got his
magnificent Olive safe in Scarborough, or wherever their noses might
lead them, then he would tell her of the risk they had run.
They both laughed from mere irrational glee, and Edward Coe nearly
forgot to pay the bill. However, he did pay it. They departed from the
Royal York. He put his Olive into the returning Rottingdean omnibus, and
then hurried to get his repaired bicycle. He had momentarily quaked
lest Mimi and company might be in the omnibus. But they were not. They
must have left earlier, fortunately, or walked.