"Better not mention names here, sir," he said. "I am obeying my orders. The brougham is waiting outside."
"It is all right," answered Frank; "he knows my name. He is quite right to be careful."
They followed the man down the stairs; a brougham was in waiting, as he had said, and he put the bags inside and held the door open for them to enter.
Stella paused—even at that moment she paused with the same instinctive feeling of distrust—but Frank whispered, "Be quick," and she entered.
The old man closed the door.
"You know where to drive," said Frank, in a low voice.
"I know, sir," he said, in the same expressionless, apathetic fashion, and mounted to the box.
Stella looked at the crowded streets through which they drove at a rapid pace, and a strange feeling of helplessness took possession of her. She would not own to herself that she was disappointed at Leycester's not meeting her, but his absence filled her with a vague alarm and disquietude, which she mentally assured herself were foolish and unwoman-like.
But the vastness and strangeness of the great city overwhelmed her.
"Do you know where Bruton street is?" she asked, in a low voice.