"This is one of the kindest things that even your life will hold!" he
exclaimed.
So again they were in the street, and the door swung to behind them.
Wyndham was carrying his package, unexpectedly heavy, all concentrated
weight, like a dumb-bell. The point caught her attention, and in a flash
she changed again, was once more the amused laughing comrade, even
though the sky was clouded now and tiny specks of rain flew in their
faces.
"A midnight expedition!" she cried. "Let it be a hansom this time."
At the corner of Knightsbridge they found one, and they were off again
at a trot; a fact so astonishing that they could hardly grasp it. And
then, instead of feeling broken with fatigue at the end of a long day,
they found themselves fresh and spirited, as at the beginning of a new
adventure.
Soon they were cutting down Sloane Street, and then Wyndham suggested
they should go the more interesting way round, so as to take in the
Embankment, and drive into the Tite Street at the river end. It would
leave a pleasanter impression with her, he argued, and Lady Betty
readily assented. He gave the man the word, but straightway again the
pair were deep in conversation, and lost all sense of the outer world.
Some minutes passed. Suddenly their driver gave a shout, the hansom
jerked violently, and Lady Betty, clutching at Wyndham's hand, saw a
woman just step back in time from under the horse's head. The driver
cracked his whip and shouted something angrily, and then the hansom
moved on again. Wyndham stared out into the night. He saw the line of
lights gleaming along the parapet of the river, and recognised they were
within a short distance of Tite Street. But the woman was already lost
in the gloom.