"I would as soon go home with a tigress as with you in your present mood--indeed, of the two, I think I would prefer the tigress. I have been in too many tight places to feel inclined to walk, with my eyes open, into quite such a tight place as that would be. Once more I have to inform you that I have an appointment which will prevent my having the pleasure of your company any farther, so I wish you good-afternoon."
"And once more I tell you that I'm coming home with you."
"Oh no, you're not."
"Oh yes, I am."
"I think you are mistaken."
He beckoned to a policeman who happened to be standing by the kerb at a little distance from where they were.
"What do you want with him?" she demanded.
"I am going to appeal to that officer for protection, and I don't think you will find that I shall do so in vain. You will compel people to summon the police--it is extremely unwise."
The constable was sauntering towards them. Recognising, apparently, that there was logic in what Mr. Luker said, without waiting for the policeman to approach, also without going through the empty formula of wishing the solicitor good-afternoon, she marched off and left Mr. Luker alone. When she had gone, perhaps, a hundred yards, she stopped and looked back. Mr. Luker, who was still where she had left him, was seemingly enjoying a little friendly converse with the constable. She continued her progress for, possibly, another hundred yards, and then again looked back. This time Mr. Luker had vanished. She could distinguish the stalwart figure of the constable striding along in solitary state in the distance. She signalled to a hansom. "Stamford Street, Blackfriars Bridge end," was the direction she gave the driver. When the vehicle had brought her to the point she desired, descending, she dismissed it. She stood for two or three minutes, scanning the passers-by, keenly observing, so far as she was able, every one in sight. Then, turning into Stamford Street, she presently turned again into a street on her right. She was coming into a very shady neighbourhood, in which one opined that women of her appearance were very occasional visitants. She twisted and turned, however, with the unerring rapidity of one who knew it uncommonly well, until at last she found herself in what was rather an alley than a street, and a cul-de-sac at that, for at the end was nothing but a high blank wall. Here the tenements were not only extremely small, apparently consisting of five or six rooms at most, they were also of disreputable appearance. Pausing in front of one she regarded it with an attentive eye. The fact that the blinds were down gave it a deserted look. She knocked once, twice--there was no bell. When no one answered she drew a conclusion of her own.
"He's not come yet; I'll wait."