Neil took the risks. About half-past ten o'clock he emerged from the underground fastness of the Edgeware Road Station and began to grope his way about for his ultimate destination. But it was a sorry business. He seemed to be wandering round in a circle, and by noon he did not know which end of the Road he was at.
Then a sudden miracle, often seen in the case of a London fog, was wrought by some invisible force in the upper air. The thick veil was drawn back as if by unseen hands, a few feeble rays of wintry sunshine filtered through the gloom, and London became free and visible once more.
Neil then found that he had wandered into Maida Vale, where he was totally stranded. He hailed a passing hansom and, giving the address, sat back comfortably with his cigarette, all unconscious, until he took a peep into the little mirror at the side of the cab, that his face was exceedingly grimy and that there were various smudges on his collar.
Neil was not vain, but a man likes to look his best when he goes to see the girl he loves. He did what he could to remedy the defects, and was fairly satisfied with the results when the cab set him down at his destination.
The jingling cab bells reached Agnes Fraser's ears in the dining-room, where, with a polishing cloth, she was trying to remove the traces of the fog from her furniture.
She herself opened the door and had no doubt when she saw a tall young man alighting from the hansom that he was only some fresh seeker after "accommodation," which is the word used in her business. She had of course, seen the Laird of Garrion when he was a boy but she did not recognize him now.
He paid the man and came smilingly to the door.
"Mrs. Fraser? You don't know me, I can see, though you must have seen me sometimes at Achree--Drummond of Garrion."
Agnes's face flushed warmly.
"Oh, sir, I beg your pardon. I micht hae kent; but there--of course ye are cheenged. Will you come inside, sir? It's a prood woman I am to bid ye to my hoose."