His enthusiasm had caused him to ignore her presence. For the next five minutes he was earnestly engaged in explaining away his uncanny request.
[Chapter XX]
The Trail
Standing on the steps of the hotel, Brett cast a searching glance along the line of waiting hansoms. He wanted a strong, sure-footed horse, one of those marvellous animals, found only in the streets of London, which trots like a dog, slides down Savoy Street on its hind legs, slips in and out among the traffic like an eel, and covers a steady eight miles an hour for a seemingly indefinite period.
“Shall I whistle for a cab, sir?” said the hall-porter.
“No. You whistle without discrimination,” replied the barrister.
He found the stamp of gee-gee he needed fourth on the rank.
“How long has your horse been out of the stable?” he asked the driver.
“I’ve just driven him here, sir.”