"Couldn't do it for ten sovereigns, sir," said the cabby. "The streets is as slippery as glass, and as crowded as herrin's in a barrel. I'll do it in three-quarters for a quid, yer honour."
It was now nearly half-past ten; that would make it a quarter-past eleven. To me it was drawing it terribly fine, but I consented. If he were not spurred on by thought of reward, short as the distance was, there was no knowing how long he would be.
At length the cab stopped. It was a quarter-past eleven, and as I got out I noticed that we stood in front of one of those tall noble-looking mansions which are so common in Kensington.
"Wait a minute," I said to the cabby; "I want to be certain this is the right house." Meanwhile I noticed that my constant friend Simon held Kaffar by the arm.
I rang the bell violently, and a servant appeared at the door.
Did Miss Gertrude Forrest live there?
Yes.
Was she at home?
Yes.
Could I see her?