“Bobby!” Cecilia's face fell. “I thought we went from Gravesend or Tilbury, or somewhere.”
“So did I. But the General's wire says Liverpool, so it seems we don't,” said Bob. “And that she-dragon is going there too!”
“I don't think you need really worry,” Mr. M'Clinton said drily. “Liverpool is not exactly a village. The chances are that if you went there, trying to meet some one, you would hunt for him for a week in vain. And you'll probably go straight from the train to the docks, so that you won't be in the least likely to encounter Mrs. Rainham.”
“Why, of course, we'd never run into her in a huge place like Liverpool,” Bob said, laughing. “Don't be afraid, Tommy—you'll have seen the last of her when you say good-bye on Wednesday.”
“It seems too good to be true,” said Cecilia solemnly. “I remember how I felt once before, when she went away to visit her sister in Liverpool; the beautiful relief when one woke, to think that not all through the day would one even have to look at her. It's really very terrible to look at her often; her white face and hard eyes seem to fascinate one. Oh, I don't suppose I ought to talk like that, especially here.” She looked shamefacedly at Mr. M'Clinton, and blushed scarlet.
Both men laughed.
“The good lady had something of the same effect on me,” Mr. M'Clinton admitted. “I found her a very terrible person. Cheer up, Miss Tommy, you've nearly finished with her. And, now, what about getting you away?”
Cecilia turned to her brother.
“What am I to do, Bob?”
“We'll have to go to Liverpool on Friday,” Bob replied promptly. “I can't find out the Nauru's sailing time, and it isn't safe to leave it until Saturday. There's a train somewhere about two o'clock that gets up somewhere about seven or eight that evening. Mr. M'Clinton and I don't want to leave it to the last moment to get your luggage away from Lancaster Gate. Can you have it ready the night before?”