Now for No. 156. It was at the other end of that long street, and she hurried on to find it. But as she got near, the thought of seeing him again, the doubt as to the news which she was bringing him, the strange feeling of responsibility which rested upon her in thus doing the bidding of one who had so lately passed away from earth—all these made her tremble and pause as she stood on the doorstep.
When she had steadied herself for a few moments she rang the bell, and a stout elderly woman came to the door.
"Is Captain Fortescue at home?" she asked. "Mr. Fortescue lodges here; he isn't a captain, Miss—but he's out just now."
"When will he be home?"
"Oh, not for long enough yet; he mostly comes in about six or half-past."
Marjorie looked at her watch; it was a quarter to four. Her heart died within her. Two hours and a quarter, or perhaps longer still. Where should she go, and what should she do till six o'clock? Where in those wet and dirty streets could she find a shelter?
The landlady was closing the door, but as she did so, she noticed the look of dismay on Marjorie's face.
"Have you come far, Miss?" she asked.
"Yes, a long way," said Marjorie, "from near Bilston, and I know nobody in Birmingham."
"Is it very particular?"