When they reached London he drove with her to the house of a friend of his—a Mr. Ewart; and Mr. Ewart and his wife assumed that Betsy was his elder sister.
“Yes, this is Elizabeth,” said Dick. “I am taking her on to Lille for a holiday.”
Mrs. Ewart, knowing that the Sheridan family had lived at Lille for some years, merely said:
“You must have formed many friendships in France, my dear?”
“I have got some dear friends there,” said Betsy.
Mr. Ewart found out that a packet was leaving Margate in two days for Calais, and at Dick’s request wrote to secure cabins aboard. After staying two nights at the Ewarts’ house, the boy and girl posted to Margate, and duly set sail in the packet, which was really only a smack, but one with a reputation for making rapid passages. It acted up to its traditions by landing them at Calais in twenty-two hours.
The first person whom they met on the quayside was Mr. Long.
They were both astonished. How on earth did he contrive to reach Calais before them? they inquired.
Well, he had got Dick’s letter the morning after Dick had posted it, and he had set out at once for Dover, where he had found a faster boat even than the Margate smack. He had been at Calais since the previous afternoon.
He led them to his inn, and ordered breakfast. When they were alone together after that repast, he said: