“Great heaven!” I exclaimed, “did you not marry his daughter?”
“No. What the devil makes you ask that? Marry Lenore Hyland! Why, Stone, I’m old enough to be the young lady’s father; and I am that: since I married her mother.”
“Come on!” I exclaimed, rushing towards the door. “Come on! I must see her immediately.”
I hurried bare-headed into the street—followed by Captain Nowell, who brought my hat in his hand, and placed it on my head.
We hailed a cab; and ordered the driver to take us to Number —, Denbigh Street, Pimlico.
I thought that a horse had never moved so slow. I said everything I could, to induce cabby to drive faster. I did more than talk to him: I bribed him. I threatened, and cursed him—though the man seemed to make every endeavour to satisfy my impatience. The horse appeared to crawl. I thought of jumping out of the cab—in the belief that I could go faster afoot; but my companion prevented me.
We did reach Denbigh Street at last; but after a drive that seemed to me as long as any voyage I had ever made across the Atlantic Ocean.
I could not wait for the Captain to ring his own bell; but rang it myself.
On the instant that a servant girl answered the summons, I put the question:
“Where is Lenore?”