‘I don’t want any supper,’ said Meddlechip, sullenly, his face having regained its normal colour. ‘Possibly not, but I do,’ replied Vandeloup, sweetly, taking his arm; ‘come, let us go.’
Meddlechip did not resist, but walked passively out of the bar with Vandeloup, much to the astonishment of the thin gentleman, who called out to him but without getting any answer.
Meddlechip went to the cloak room and put on his coat and hat. Then he followed Vandeloup down the stairs and paused at the door while the Frenchman hailed a hansom. When it drove up, however, he stopped short at the edge of the pavement.
‘I won’t go,’ he said, determinedly.
Vandeloup looked at him with a peculiar gleam in his dark eyes, and bowed.
‘Let me persuade you, Monsieur,’ he said, blandly, holding the door of the cab open.
Meddlechip glanced at him, and then, with a sigh of resignation, entered the cab, followed by Vandeloup.
‘Where to, sir?’ asked the cabman, through the trap.
‘To Leslie’s Supper Rooms,’ replied the Frenchman, and the cab drove off.