I could not refrain from smiling at my own discomfiture. She had guessed that I would follow her, and in the long interval occupied by our railway journey she had marked out her plan of action, and had devised a pretty little stratagem into which I had readily fallen. Why should she act thus? Could this lady really be George in disguise? This idea was inspired by the belief that she had come from the same house in which he had taken refuge. "What sort of a voice had she?" I asked. "Was it at all masculine?" "Oh, jest!" "Just what?" "Maskyline." "Do you know what masculine means?" "Frightened-like, I expex you mean." "You're a f-- Was it at all like a man's voice?" Cabby seemed to think this was a question that required a good deal of consideration before answering. "Well, it might ha' bin a man's voice," he replied, speaking slowly. "Similarly it might not. It was a trifle hoarse for a woman, but I put that down to fright." "You wouldn't swear in a court of law that it was a man's voice?" "No, I wouldn't, governor. I'm pretty certain it was a woman." No more was to be learned from the cabman, so, thanking him for his information, I quitted the tavern. As I entered the hansom, the driver exclaimed with a grin: "Given you the slip, sir? Reckon she's a cough-drop, and no blooming kid!" I turned a withering frown on this vulgar familiarity. "Drive to Belgrave Square," I exclaimed loftily, "and look sharp." I flung myself back in the cab in a fever-heat. "The affair is growing exciting," I muttered. "Was it a man or a woman? If a woman--who? If a man--was it George? if not--who? Did George travel by the other line, I wonder, and will he come this morning to claim his bride, or will he not? Will the veiled lady turn up in my uncle's drawing-room or at the altar-rails, and create some melodramatic scene? Patience--patience! we shall see. Daphne, you may yet be mine." CHAPTER III THE WEDDING MORNING The snow was lying thick upon the streets, and as I noticed the driver's difficulty in keeping his horse up, and in getting the vehicle along, I wondered how it would fare with the wedding carriages if the storm should continue. At last we reached my destination, and running up the steps I found myself being warmly greeted by my uncle, whose beaming face showed that nothing had as yet occurred to mar the happiness of the day. "This _is_ a pleasure, Frank," he said heartily. "I was beginning to think you would disappoint us after all. But you look frozen. Come to the fireside and get some food within you." I returned his greeting, and, having been assured that Daphne was in the best of health, inquired after the bridegroom. "When did you see George last?" "Last night. He was here till eleven." "And where did he go when he left?" "To his hotel, I suppose," my uncle said, looking, as was natural, a little surprised at my question. "He's staying at the _Métropole_, you know."