She came out of a long reflection. Indeed, the destination was evidently a far one! She had not noticed the course taken by the brougham—not that she could have recognized any streets other than one or two of the main west end thoroughfares. It seemed to her now that they must be somewhere in the suburbs.
“Are we nearly there?” she asked her guardian.
He cleared his throat. “Still a bit to go,” he said, and gave a long, vague explanation, which she could not follow, as to police districts and other matters. “My work ends,” he concluded, “when I have handed you over to the—the chief inspector.”
She thought of asking him what the chief inspector was like, and whether she would have to go to Scotland, but suddenly she felt too tired to talk. The reaction had come, and she lay back exhaustedly, with the tears not far away. She was no longer in a hurry to reach the destination.
The man drew down the blinds. Soon the speed of the brougham was increased; it seemed to be travelling over a different sort of road. There were occasional ruts that suggested the country.
At the end of what seemed a very long, yet too short period, the man said—
“We are practically there now.” And under his breath he added: “Thank God!”
The brougham lurched round a corner; presently its pace slackened.
The man drew up the blind on the left, and, the moment the motion ceased, threw open the door and jumped out, laying her bag on the ground.
“Will you get out, please?” he said. His voice had become husky and fearful.