"Any day--at least some day. Some day next week--only father is going away next week, and a picnic would be nothing without _him_." "Suppose you and I and Verneede went for a picnic next week?" "That would be fun," said the girl; "we can make tea--oh, don't let us talk of picnics, I feel miserable. Will he _eat_ me, do you think?" "Who?" "Mr Hancock." "Not he--unless he has the gout, he's perfectly savage when he has the gout--I say?" "What?" "You'd better not tell him you know me." "Why?" "Oh, because I've been fighting with him lately. I quarrel with him once in three months or so. If he thought you and I were friends, it might put his back up." "I'll be mum," said Miss Lambert. "I'll wait for you at the corner till you come out," said Leavesley, "and tell me, Fanny." "What?" "You _will_ come for a picnic, won't you?" "Rather, if I'm alive. I feel like the young lady of Niger--wasn't it?--who went for a ride on a tiger, just before she saddled it----" The cab rattled and rumbled them at last into Oxford Street. At the corner of Southampton Row it stopped. They got out, and Leavesley paid and dismissed the driver. "That's the house down there," said he, "No. --. I'll wait for you here; _don't_ be long." "I won't be a minute, at least I'll be as short as I can. Now I'm _going_." She tripped off, and Leavesley watched her flitting by the grim, business-like houses. She turned for a second, glanced back, and then No. -- engulfed her. Leavesley waited, trying to picture to himself the interview that was in progress. Trying to fancy what Miss Lambert was saying to Mr James Hancock, and what Mr James Hancock was saying to Miss Lambert. Surely no one in London could have suggested such a proceeding except Verneede, a proceeding so hopelessly insane from a business point of view. To call on your adversary's solicitor, and tell him to cease because he was worrying your father to death! Besides, Lambert was the man who ought to cease, because it was Lambert who was the plaintiff. Punching a man's head, and then telling him to cease! Mr Leavesley burst into a laugh that caused a passing old lady to hurry on her way. He waited. Five minutes passed, ten, fifteen; _what_ was happening? It was nearly closing time at the office. Twenty minutes passed. Could James Hancock really have devoured Fanny in a fit of gout and irritation? He saw Bridgewater, the old chief clerk, come out and make off down Southampton Row with a bag in his hand. Three-quarters of an hour had gone, and Leavesley had taken his watch out for the twentieth time, when from the doorway of No. -- Fanny appeared, a glimmer of blue like a butterfly just broken from its chrysalis. Leavesley made two steps towards her, then he paused. Immediately after Fanny came James Hancock, umbrella in hand, and hat on the back of his head. He was accompanying her.