"I, for one, shall be delighted," said Shawe, with emphasis. "I am very, very tired of the whole sordid business."
"I think you must have been when you wrote that anonymous letter," said Miss Toat, with a sly smile.
Ralph laughed. "It was very clever of you to trace the writing of it to me," he remarked coolly. "However, my wife now understands why I wrote it."
Here Audrey intimated her opinion that they would lose the train if they did not start at once for the station. The other agreed, and a brisk walk soon took them on to the platform. Shortly they were on their way to the junction, and there transferred their three selves to the main express. During the journey they talked a great deal about the case, as they had a compartment to themselves. Ralph saw, although Audrey did not, that Miss Toat was keeping back something which she was anxious to tell, and wondered what it could be.
When the train left the junction it steamed through a clear atmosphere, and in the midst of sunshine. But as it drew near to the metropolis the air became dense and smoky, and by the time it arrived at the terminus the three travellers found themselves environed by a thick fog. Not a glimpse of the sun was to be seen, and all round was a cotton-wool atmosphere, disagreeable and dispiriting. Audrey shivered when she stepped out on to the London platform, and was glad that Ralph had insisted on bringing a fur cloak with him for her to wear.
"What an extraordinary climate," she said, with a shudder; "scarcely an hour ago and we were in broad sunshine. Now look at it."
"Look at what?" asked Ralph, laughing. "We can see nothing."
And, indeed, he was right. From Victoria Station to the Strand they were in a kind of cloud-land, through which the taxi-cab crawled at a cautious pace. It took them three quarters of an hour to reach Buckingham Street, and here the fog was denser than ever. Miss Toat, leading the way up the narrow stairs to her office, simply groped amidst familiar surroundings like a miner in a coal mine. However, the two rooms of the office blazed with electric lights, and the warmth and the illumination were quite comfortable after the chilly gloom of the streets. Madame Coralie and her husband were waiting, but Colonel Ilse had not yet put in an appearance.
The proprietress of the Pink Shop had for once discarded her Turkish dress and yashmak. She wore a quiet costume and a loose cloak to hide her shapeless figure, together with a thick black veil, which masked the disfigured face. Eddy appeared over-dressed and more cherubic than ever in a quite unnecessary fur coat--for the day was warm in spite of the fog, and he did not need it. His face, however, was very pale, and he looked decidedly uncomfortable as he grinned uneasily at Mrs. Shawe.
"Dear Aunt Flora, how are you?" said the girl, coming forward.