The blue flames danced, and disclosed a few vehicles hurrying past swiftly in the night, huge tramways lumbering along, and one or two flying motor cabs. And far ahead--right in the heart of the glow--the distant lights of a more busy thoroughfare. Now the wide street was more dark and lonely than before, only the solitary female figure appeared in the fiery picture, walking among the trees. The last of the lumbering tramways had been merged in the distant lights: only from afar came flying on the blue flames, a taxicab at lightning speed. It came along, its headlights burning more and more brightly, it rattled past the solitary female pedestrian. Then it stopped in the dark angle made by a huge piece of coal: the blue flames gave a hiss and from every corner of the grate crowds of people came rushing to the spot where the taxicab had halted. The solitary female pedestrian also hurried to the spot. She stopped on the outskirts of the crowd, and yet she saw everything that went on in and round the motor, the horror-stricken driver, the bustling gendarmes, the huddled up mass in the darkest corner of the vehicle. Then the coal, consumed by its own power, fell together in a formless heap and the picture vanished. Louisa closed her eyes, for the heat in them was intolerable. But only for a moment: for now her mind was made up. Ever since she had parted from Luke, one thought had been dominant in her mind, one memory had obtruded itself beyond all others, taking definite shape in the visions conjured up by the glowing embers of the fire--that night in Brussels!--the great unforgettable night, on which her whole life's history seemed to find its birth-time. One great resolve, too, had now taken definite shape. Louisa rang for her maid, and asked for hat and cloak. The maid--somewhat horrified that her mistress should think of going out alone at so late an hour--was too well drilled to offer advice or make comment. She brought a warm wrap and a closely fitting, simple hat, and respectfully wished to know when she should expect her mistress home. "In about an hour's time," said Louisa. "Come down into the hall with me, and tell the porter to call me a cab." Then she went down, accompanied by her maid. A cab was called, and she directed the driver to 56 Chester Terrace. The address was that of Lady Ryder's town house. The maid--feeling more satisfied--went up stairs again. CHAPTER XXXVI PEOPLE DON'T DO THAT SORT OF THING Lady Ryder was out of town. She was staying at a country house in the Midlands, chaperoning her nieces--Louisa's twin-sisters--but Sir Thomas Ryder was at home. It was for him that Louisa had asked when the butler opened the door in answer to her ring. "Sir Thomas is in the library, miss," said the man. "Will you come into the drawing room? and I'll tell Sir Thomas you are here, miss." "No!" she said, "don't announce me. I'll go to the library."