“Indeed? Odd, wasn’t it? But you were saying that you thought I dropped from the sky. Why, I had been following you for five minutes before! What do you think of that? If I may take the liberty of asking, how did you come to be walking round Soho at such an hour with a little ragged boy?” Lydia explained. When she finished, it was nearly dark, and they had reached Oxford Street, where, like Lucian in Regent’s Park that afternoon, she became conscious that her companion was an object of curiosity to many of the young men who were lounging in that thoroughfare. “Alice will think that I am lost,” she said, making a signal to a cabman. “Good-bye; and many thanks. I am always at home on Fridays, and shall be very happy to see you.” She handed him a card. He took it, read it, looked at the back to see if there was anything written there, and then said, dubiously, “I suppose there will be a lot of people.” “Yes; you will meet plenty of people.” “Hm! I wish you’d let me see you home now. I won’t ask to go any further than the gate.” Lydia laughed. “You should be very welcome,” she said; “but I am quite safe, thank you. I need not trouble you.” “But suppose the cabman bullies you for double fare,” persisted Cashel. “I have business up in Finchley; and your place is right in any way there. Upon my soul I have,” he added, suspecting that she doubted him. “I go every Tuesday evening to the St. John’s Wood Cestus Club.” “I am hungry and in a hurry to got home,” said Lydia. “‘I must be gone and live, or stay and die.’ Come if you will; but in any case let us go at once.” She got into the cab, and Cashel followed, making some remark which she did not quite catch about its being too dark for any one to recognize him. They spoke little during the drive, which was soon over. Bashville was standing at the open door as they came to the house. When Cashel got out the footman looked at him with interest and some surprise, But when Lydia alighted he was so startled that he stood open-mouthed, although he was trained to simulate insensibility to everything except his own business, and to do that as automatically as possible. Cashel bade Lydia good-bye, and shook hands with her. As she went into the house, she asked Bashville whether Miss Goff was within. To her surprise, he paid no attention to her, but stared after the retreating cab. She repeated the question. “Madam,” he said, recovering himself with a start, “she has asked for you four times.” Lydia, relieved of a disagreeable suspicion that her usually faultless footman must be drunk, thanked him and went up-stairs. CHAPTER VIII One morning a handsome young man, elegantly dressed, presented himself at Downing Street, and asked to see Mr. Lucian Webber. He declined to send in a card, and desired to be announced simply as “Bashville.” Lucian ordered him to be admitted at once, and, when he entered, nodded amiably to him and invited him to sit down.