‘Has a lady called for me?’ I asked the Sphynx.
‘Now, is it likely, sir?’ answered my fellow, with rough humour.
‘Well, I must go and meet her,’ I cried, and, hastily snatching a bull’s-eye lantern and policeman’s rattle from the Sphynx, I plunged into the darkness.
First I hurried to Mrs. Thompson’s, where I learned that Philippa had just gone out for a stroll after a somewhat prolonged luncheon. This was like Philippa. I recognised that shrinking modesty which always made her prefer to veil her charms by walking about after nightfall.
Turning from Mrs. Thompson’s, I felt the snow more sharply on my face. Furiously, blindly, madly it whirled here and drifted there.
Should I go for Sir Runan? Should I wait where I was? Should I whistle for a cab? Should I return to the ‘pike?
Suddenly out of the snow came a peal of silvery laughter. Philippa waltzed gracefully by in a long ulster whitened with snow.
I detected her solely by means of my dark lantern.
I rushed on her, I seized her. I said, ‘Philippa, come back with me!’
‘No, all the fun’s in the front,’ shrieked Philippa. ‘My quarter’s salary! Oh, my last quarter’s salary!’