“Oh, we can tuck in somehow.” She turned again to Craven. “Do ask her. Or we might come over to you.” “Very well!” said Craven, still stiffly. He glanced round towards the window and started. “What’s the matter?” Miss Van Tuyn leaned forward and looked. There was no longer anyone sitting at the table by the window. Lady Sellingworth had disappeared. CHAPTER V “What has become of Adela?” exclaimed Miss Van Tuyn. “I haven’t the least idea,” said Craven, looking uncomfortable. “Perhaps--She complained of the heat just now. She may have gone to the door to get some air. Please forgive me!” He glanced from Miss Van Tuyn to Arabian, who was still standing up stiffly, with a rigidly polite expression on his face. “I must just see!” He turned away and walked down the restaurant. When he got to the counter where the _padrona_ sat enthroned he found their waitress standing near it. “Where is the signora?” he asked. “The signora took her fur and went out, signorino,” said the woman. “The bill, please!” “_Ecco, signorino!_” The woman presented the bill. Craven paid it, tipped her, got his coat and hat, and went hurriedly out. He expected to find Lady Sellingworth on the doorstep, but no one was there, and he looked down the street, first to the right, then to the left. In the distance on the left he saw the tall figure of a woman walking slowly near a lamp-post, and he hurried down the street. As his footsteps rang on the pavement the woman turned round, and showed the white face and luminous eyes of Lady Sellingworth. “You have given me quite a turn, as the servants say!” he exclaimed, coming up to her. “What is the matter? Are you ill?” He looked anxiously at her. “What made you go away so suddenly? You didn’t mind my--” “No, no!” she interrupted. “But I do feel unwell. I feel very unwell.” “I’m most awfully sorry! Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me leave you?” “Beryl wanted you.” “It was only--she only wanted to suggest our all having coffee together.” Her mouth went awry. “Oh, do take my arm!” he exclaimed. “What is it? Are you suffering?” After a pause she said: “Yes.” There seemed to him something ominous in the sound of the word as she spoke it. “I’m horribly sorry. I must find you a cab.” “Yes, please do.” “But in Soho, it’s so difficult! Can you manage--can you walk a little way?” “Oh yes.” “Directly we get into Shaftesbury Avenue we are sure to see one. It’s only a step.” She had taken his arm, but she did not lean heavily on it, only just touched it. He hardly felt the weight of her hand. Evidently she was not feeling faint, or very weak. He wondered intensely what was the matter. But she did not give any explanation. She had made that ominous answer to his question, and there she left it. He did not dare to make any further inquiry, and as she said nothing they walked on in silence. As they were turning into Shaftesbury Avenue an empty taxicab passed them with the flag up.