“I’ll write and fix a date,” said Rowton after a pause. “My wife and I mean to give a ball, but we must wait a little until the county magnates have time to call. I’ll want as many of you good fellows as will honour me to come down for the great occasion. I mean to do something with the hunting next season, but it is rather late to think much of that this year. The ball, however, is a different matter. You’ll all come for the ball, won’t you?”
Three or four promised, and Rowton made notes in his engagement book.
It was about ten o’clock when he left the club. He hailed a hansom then, and drove straight back to the quiet little hotel off the Strand. When he got there he went upstairs, changed his hat for a round one of somewhat shabby make, put on a light overcoat and came down again.
“Going out, sir?” said the landlord, who was standing in the hall.
“Yes, for a bit,” said Rowton.
The man noticed the change of dress and made no remark—many of his guests were out all night; he supplied them with latchkeys, and never sat up for them.
“A latchkey, sir?” he said now to Rowton.
“Thanks,” replied the owner of Rowton Heights in a nonchalant tone. He slipped the key into his pocket, and the next moment found himself again in the Strand.
He took another hansom and told the man to drive him as far as the Chelsea Embankment. It took about half an hour to get there. He got out just by the Embankment, paid the driver his fare and walked slowly on, bearing straight to his right all the time. By-and-by he found himself, still almost within sight of the Embankment, but in a low part of Chelsea. He went down several by-streets, being remarked by those who glanced at him by reason of his height and a certain uprightness of carriage which, try as he would, he could never get rid of. It was Saturday night, near midnight, and the place was all alive—barrows in the streets, hawkers everywhere, people buying and selling, children screaming, women arguing and gesticulating, good, hard-worked housewives hurrying home with well-laden baskets, drunken men staggering across the streets. Rowton passed quickly through their midst. The place smelt horribly. The air was heavy with the odours of stale fish and rotting vegetables.