“Told you he was a rum touch,” remarked Freddy. “Able to speak by the time I arrived, though. Queer set of company, wasn’t it? Who was that fellow I set down just now?”
“I haven’t a notion, and I doubt if the Scortons have either, for he was not of our party at the start of the evening. And I must say, Freddy, you did it beautifully! It was almost enough to make up for all the rest!”
“Very happy to have been of service!” murmured Mr. Standen, gratified. “Fellow been annoying you?”
“He was quite odious, but no, it wasn’t that!”
“Something else?” said Mr. Standen encouragingly.
Kitty nodded, biting her lip. “Yes, but I think perhaps I should not speak of it, even to you. I am in such a fix, and don’t know what to do!”
“Don’t do anything until we’ve got a hack!” recommended Freddy. “Tell me then!”
Kitty was glad to follow the first part of this eminently sensible advice; but when she sat beside Freddy, in the. darkness and mustiness of the hackney-coach, and he bade her tell him the whole, she hesitated.
“Much better do so,” he said. “Might be able to help you.”
“Freddy—it is most secret!”