"I don't know," he said. "I thought she was a friend of yours." "Never seen her in my life," I answered. "I wonder who she took us for?" I looked round, and then touched his arm. "Bruce," I said, "she's following us." He glanced bade over his shoulder, and I saw him start as though something had stung him. "Come on!" he muttered, suddenly quickening his pace. "Why, what does it matter?" I protested. "Others, too," he whispered, "just behind her! Three or four of 'em! It's that infernal charm!" "Bosh!" I said incredulously, and then turned round to take another look. For a moment I felt as if someone had suddenly placed a large piece of ice inside my waistcoat. At least five women were following us along the pavement, headed by the lady in sables. There could be no possible doubt about it. Even as I looked two girls who had been walking in the other direction suddenly pulled up, and then, turning round, came hurriedly in pursuit of the rest. We seemed to be clearing Regent Street. "This is awful!" I gasped. "What are we to do?" "We must t-take a taxi!" stammered Bruce, looking wildly about him. Of course, as luck would have it, there was not a cab of any kind passing. We couldn't wait, for every moment things were growing worse. Women were appearing suddenly out of shops, and hurrying over from the other side of the street in twos and threes, recklessly indifferent to the traffic. In less than a minute a jostling crowd of about fifty or sixty were sweeping after us up the pavement. "Run!" gasped Bruce. "Run!" It was, of course, about as mad a thing as we could have done; but panic, stark, blind panic, had gripped hold of us, and our only feeling was a frantic desire to escape. Without another word we took to our heels. Of what followed I have a somewhat confused recollection. I remember a terrific uproar all round us, yells of "Suffragettes!" "Stop 'em!" "Police!" And then two helmeted figures in dark blue suddenly leaped across our path. I suppose they must have taken us for Cabinet Ministers, for they opened out to let us go through, and without hesitation hurled themselves into the wild avalanche of pursuing women. The check was only a momentary, one, but it saved us. Before the shattered column could reform we had reached the corner of Vigo Street, where a taxi--a thrice-blessed taxi with an excited, beckoning driver at the wheel--was standing in readiness. "Jump in!" he roared, as we hurled ourselves panting at the door. Willing hands banged it behind us, someone raised a cheer as we sank back on the seat, and there we were spinning past the Bodley Head, with the tumult and shouting dying away behind us. There are some emotions which words are quite inadequate to express. At that moment Bruce and I were suffering from about six of them.