The same night a miracle happened. It was very late, and the _debris_ of
a little charity performance at an assembly-room had to be cleared away.
The last guests had gone--in this or that conveyance, or on our best
friends in war-time, the feet--and that hunt for a taxi, which has now
taken the place of all other sport, was being prosecuted with more or
less energy by a policeman, a loafer and two or three amateurs, all of
whom returned at intervals while the packing-up was in progress, to say
how hopeless the case was and how independent the men had become.
One passing cab I hailed myself, but he did no more than laugh a loud
laugh of mere incivility and ironically remark, "Ter-morrer!"
signifying, as I understood it, that nothing on earth should interfere
with his homeward journey that night, since he had done enough and was
tired, but that on the succeeding day, if I still required his services,
he was at my disposal.
The various bags and parcels being now all ready, we waited patiently in
the hall, and from time to time received reports as to the progress of
the chase.
At last, when things seemed really hopeless, a taxi arrived, driven by a
young man in spectacles, which were, I am convinced, part of a disguise
covering one of the noblest personalities in the land--some Haroun al
Raschid, filled with pity for lost Londoners, who is devoting his life
to redressing the wrongs inflicted upon poor humanity by taxi
tyrants--for he said nothing about having no petrol, nothing about the
lateness of the hour, nothing about the direction in which we wished to
go, but quietly and efficiently helped to get the things in and on the
cab; and then drove swiftly away, and when we got to the other end
insisted on carrying some of the bundles up three flights of stairs, and
had no objection to make when asked to wait a little longer and go on
elsewhere.
All this time I was, I need hardly say, in a dream. Could it be
true? Could it?
And when he was at last paid off he said both "Good night" and "Thank
you," although it was I in whom gratitude should have thus vocally
burned. Perhaps it did; I was too dazed to remember.
How I wish I had taken his number, that all the world might know it and
look for it, assured of a gentleman on the box!