“Does either one of those sound like the address to you, Nancy?” asked Billie.
“I don’t know,” replied the other wearily. “I’ve lost all sense of sound and memory. We might try Hannah, anyhow. She sounds hopeful.”
Billie wrote the numbers down in her note book and gave the order curtly to the coachman, who winked one eye profoundly at the two young girls and gave a knowing smile.
“Beekman Terrace? H’it’s a good w’ys from ’ere.”
Billie was provoked.
“That’s none of your affair,” she said impatiently. “We don’t ask you to do it without paying you. Only do hurry. If you had never been so slow, we shouldn’t have got in this mess.”
“I awn’t no charioteer, Miss, and I awn’t no four-in-‘and driver with race-‘orses at me whip’s-end. I awn’t in the ‘orse-killin’ business, either. If h’I’m to drive fifteen miles, h’I’ll tyke it at me own time.”
“Fifteen miles?” repeated Billie in great uneasiness.
“Is that very far from Westminster Abbey?” asked Nancy innocently.
“H’it’s a good distance, Miss.”