"'Ow, the Juice——?
"I carn't.
"Kiss 'er!"
"I carn't even face 'er——!"
A terrible anticipation of that gathering framed itself in his mind—a hideous, impossible disaster.
His voice went up to a note of despair, "And it's too late to telegrarf and stop 'em!"
About twenty minutes after this, an outporter in Castle Hill Avenue was accosted by a young man, with a pale, desperate face, an exquisitely rolled umbrella and a heavy Gladstone bag.
"Carry this to the station, will you?" said the young man. "I want to ketch the nex' train to London.... You'll 'ave to look sharp—I 'aven't very much time."