"'Besbery!' repeated Gerald, pencilling memoranda on his linen cuff. 'Do you remember the name of the vicar, or rector?'
"'There was only a curate-in-charge—Mr. Harrison.'
"'Very good,' said Gerald.' Now, what we have to do is to get this poor young lady into a decent lodging, where the landlady will take care of her till we can help her to find some employment, or respectable situation, not mediumistic. I suppose it would hardly be convenient to you to take her home with you, and keep her for a week or so, Mrs. Ravenshaw?' Gerald inquired, as an afterthought.
"Mrs. Ravenshaw hastened to explain that, with children, nursery-governess, and spinster aunt, every bed in her house at Shooter's Hill was occupied.
"'We have not known what it is to have a spare bedroom for the last three years,' she said.
"'Babies have accumulated rather rapidly,' said Ravenshaw. Poor creature, how my careless, independent bachelorhood pitied him! 'And every second baby means another servant. If one could only bring them up in a frame, like geranium cuttings!'
"'I think I know of a lodging-house where Miss Campbell could find a temporary home, not far from here,' I said.
"'Think you know?' cried Gerald, impatiently. 'You can't think about knowing; you know or don't know. Where is it?'
"'In Great Ormond Street.'
"'Capital—close by. I'll go and get a cab. Miss Campbell, just put your traps together, and—and do up your hair, and get on a gown,' looking at her flowing robe and dishevelled hair with evident distaste, 'while I'm gone.'