‘He’s gone to meet Fanny French. At least, he told me so; but I want to know whether it is really Fanny, or some one else. He said they were to meet in front of the Haymarket Theatre. Will you go as quickly as you can, and see if Fanny is there?’
Crewe laughed.
‘Like a bird!—But how am I to meet you again?’
‘We’ll be at the top of Regent Street at nine o’clock,—by Peter Robinson’s. Don’t lose time.’
He struck off in the westerly direction, and Barmby, looking round at that moment, saw him go. Engrossed in thought of Nancy, Samuel did not yet perceive that her brother had vanished.
‘Your friend isn’t coming any further?’ he said, in a tone of forbearance.
‘No.’
‘But where’s Mr. Lord?’ exclaimed Jessica.
Nancy pretended to look back for him, and for a minute or two they waited. Barmby, glad to be delivered from both male companions, made light of the matter; Horace could take care of himself; they had the appointment for a quarter to eleven;—on! And he now fixed himself resolutely at Nancy’s side.
She, delighted with the success of her stratagem, and careless of what might result from it, behaved more companionably. To Luckworth Crewe’s society she had no objection; indeed, she rather liked him; but his presence would have hindered the escape for which she was preparing. Poor Jessica might feel it something of a hardship to pass hours alone with ‘the Prophet,’ but that could not be helped. Nancy would be free to-night, if never again. They turned into the Strand, and Barmby voiced his opinion of the public decorations.