A Damsel in Distress

"That very fact seems to me to constitute the makings of a pretty

fair mystery."

"Well, what I mean is, I'm not a princess in disguise trying to

escape from anarchists, or anything like those things you read

about in books. I'm just in a perfectly simple piece of trouble.

You would be bored to death if I told you about it."

"Try me."

She shook her head.

"No. Besides, here we are." The cab had stopped at the hotel, and a

commissionaire was already opening the door. "Now, if you haven't

repented of your rash offer and really are going to be so awfully

kind as to let me have that money, would you mind rushing off and

getting it, because I must hurry. I can just catch a good train,

and it's hours to the next."

"Will you wait here? I'll be back in a moment."

"Very well."

The last George saw of her was another of those exhilarating smiles

of hers. It was literally the last he saw of her, for, when he

returned not more than two minutes later, the cab had gone, the

girl had gone, and the world was empty.

To him, gaping at this wholly unforeseen calamity the commissionaire

vouchsafed information.

"The young lady took the cab on, sir."

"Took the cab on?"

"Almost immediately after you had gone, sir, she got in again and

told the man to drive to Waterloo."

George could make nothing of it. He stood there in silent

perplexity, and might have continued to stand indefinitely, had not

his mind been distracted by a dictatorial voice at his elbow.

"You, sir! Dammit!"

A second taxi-cab had pulled up, and from it a stout, scarlet-

faced young man had sprung. One glance told George all. The hunt

was up once more. The bloodhound had picked up the trail. Percy was

in again!

For the first time since he had become aware of her flight, George

was thankful that the girl had disappeared. He perceived that he

had too quickly eliminated Percy from the list of the Things That

Matter. Engrossed with his own affairs, and having regarded their

late skirmish as a decisive battle from which there would be no

rallying, he had overlooked the possibility of this annoying and

unnecessary person following them in another cab--a task which, in

the congested, slow-moving traffic, must have been a perfectly

simple one. Well, here he was, his soul manifestly all stirred up

and his blood-pressure at a far higher figure than his doctor would

have approved of, and the matter would have to be opened all over

again.

"Now then!" said the stout young man.