heside-entrances.Infrontacontinuousstreamofhansomsandfour-wheelerswererattlingup,dischargingtheircargoesofshirt-frontedmenandbeshawled,bediamondedwomen.Wehadhardlyreachedthethirdpillar,whichwasourrendezvous,beforeasmall,dark,briskmaninthedressofacoachmanaccostedus.
“AreyouthepartieswhocomewithMissMorstan?”heasked.
“IamMissMorstan,andthesetwogentlemenaremyfriends,”saidshe.
Hebentapairofwonderfullypenetratingandquestioningeyesuponus.“Youwillexcuseme,miss,”hesaidwithacertaindoggedmanner,“butIwastoaskyoutogivemeyourwordthatneitherofyourcompanionsisapolice-officer.”
“Igiveyoumywordonthat,”sheanswered.
Hegaveashrillwhistle,onwhichastreetArabledacrossafour-wheelerandopenedthedoor.Themanwhohadaddressedusmountedtothebox,whilewetookourplacesinside.Wehadhardlydonesobeforethedriverwhippeduphishorse,andweplungedawayatafuriouspacethroughthefoggystreets.
Thesituationwasacuriousone.Weweredrivingtoanunknownplace,onanunknownerrand.Yetourinvitationwaseitheracompletehoax,—whichwasaninconceivablehypothesis,—orelsewehadgoodreasontothinkthatimportantissuesmighthanguponourjourney.MissMorstan’sdemeanorwasasresoluteandcollectedasever.IendeavoredtocheerandamuseherbyreminiscencesofmyadventuresinAfghanistanbut,totellthetruth,Iwasmyselfsoexcitedatoursituationandsocuriousastoourdestinationthatmystorieswereslightlyinvolved.TothisdayshedeclaresthatItoldheronemovinganecdoteastohowamusketlookedintomytentatthedeadofnight,andhowIfiredadouble-barrelledtigercubatit.AtfirstIhadsomeideaastothedirectioninwhichweweredrivingbutsoon,whatwithourpace,thefog,andmyownlimitedknowledgeofLondon,Ilostmybearings,andknewn