"No," he replied. "It is too late, I am afraid. I see that they have all gone to bed. Any chance of a taxi about here?"
"Most likely you'll find one at the corner," the policeman pointed out. "There's a rank there, and one or two of them generally stay late. Very much obliged, sir."
John had slipped a coin into the man's hand. Then he walked deliberately away. He found a taxicab and was driven toward the Milan. He let down both the windows and leaned out. He was conscious of a wild desire to keep away from his rooms—to spend the night anywhere, anyhow, sooner than go back to the little apartment where Louise had sat with him only a few hours ago, and had given herself into his arms. Every pulse in his body was tingling. He was fiercely awake, eager for motion, action, excitement of any sort.
Suddenly he remembered the night-club to which he had been introduced by Sophy on the first night of his arrival in London. The address, too, was there quite clearly in his disordered brain. He leaned out of the cab and repeated it to the driver.
XXXV
The little place was unexpectedly crowded when John entered, after having handed his hat and coat to a vestiaire. A large supper-party was going on at the further end, and the dancing space was smaller than usual. The maître d'hôtel was escorting John to a small table in a distant corner, which had just been vacated, when the latter heard his name suddenly called by a familiar voice. Sophy, who had been dancing, abandoned her partner precipitately and came hurrying up to John with outstretched hands.
"John!" she exclaimed. "You, of all people in the world! What do you mean by coming here alone at this time of night? Fancy not telling me! Is anything the matter?"
"Nothing," he replied. "I really don't exactly know why I am here. I simply didn't want to go to bed."
She looked at him closely. It was clear that she was a little puzzled at his appearance.