CHAPTER XXVII
THE RIGHT GIRL TO MARRY
Though the wind was nothing more than the usual night breeze of early autumn, the lime-tree was swaying violently to and fro, as if under the influence of a stupendous hurricane. Lilian Rosenberg and Kelson were so fascinated that they stood and watched it in silence. At last it left off swaying and became absolutely motionless. They then noticed, for the first time, that there were three figures standing under its branches, and that one of the figures was a policeman.
"Hide quickly," Kelson whispered, "those two are Hamar and Curtis. Quick, for God's sake—or they will see you."
Lilian Rosenberg hid behind an elm.
"Hulloa!" Kelson called out, advancing to the group.
"Why it's you, Matt!" Curtis cried. "Hamar said you would come!"
"Said I would come! How the deuce did he know?" Kelson exclaimed. "I didn't know myself till the moment before I started."
"I willed you," Hamar explained; "as soon as I got back to my rooms after the Show, a voice said in my ears—I heard it distinctly—'Be at the Serpentine—the south bank—underneath a lime-tree—you will know which—at twelve to-night.' I looked round—there was no one there. Naturally, concluding this was a message from the Unknown I hastened off to Curtis, who was in his digs—and needless to say—eating, and having dragged him away with me in a diabolical temper—I then sought you. Where were you?"