She made up her mind, there and then. Realising that she was doomed to still another disappointment, she took herself off, with Mr. Luker's two "friends" at her heels. When she was back again into Stamford Street she stopped and spoke to them.
"There are police here, as, if you try to follow me another step, you'll find."
"We don't want to follow you--not much! We only want to keep you off the governor, that's all. You can go where you like, and you can do what you like, but if you come near his crib again we'll mark you."
Hailing another hansom Mrs. Lamb left Mr. Luker's two "friends" standing on the pavement.
[CHAPTER XXVII]
PURE ETHER
At the house in Connaught Square Mrs. Lamb had to knock and ring four times without, apparently, attracting the attention of any one inside. She was meditating gaining admittance through the area door, when a fifth assault upon the bell and knocker was productive of a more definite result. After a good deal of what seemed unnecessary fumbling with the handle, the door was opened sufficiently wide to admit of Cottrell, the butler, being seen within. He was attired in the same extremely undignified costume in which he had greeted his mistress in the morning, which, however, showed certain signs of what might be called degeneration. The shirt-front was, if possible, more crumpled than before; the collar was gone; the waistcoat had, in some mysterious way, strayed out of the straight, so that while it was on one side of his body the shirt was on the other; his hair was rumpled; the whole man looked as if a plentiful application of cold, clean water might do him a great deal of good.
He held the door just wide enough open to enable him to display his person and to see who was there, seeming to be not at all abashed when he perceived that it was his mistress.
"So it's you, is it! So you've come at last; it's about time; we thought you never were coming. I hope you've brought some money--everybody hopes so. It's no good your coming into this house if you haven't--not the least."
Mrs. Lamb was in a bad temper, which, perhaps, on the whole was not surprising. She had been in a bad temper when she had started to visit Messrs. McTavish & Brown. The incidents which had marked the afternoon had not tended to sweeten it. On the contrary, for quite a time she had been looking for somebody on whom, to use an expressive euphemism, she might "let herself go". Had Mr. Cottrell been aware of the lady's state of mind, even in his then peculiar condition, he might have realised that there are occasions on which discretion is the better part of valour. He would certainly hardly have afforded her not only so excellent an opportunity of giving expression to her feelings, but also so capital an occasion of making her quarrel just. She looked at Mr. Cottrell with something in her eyes which should in itself have been sufficient to serve as a warning; there was still time for him to perform a strategic retreat. Without a word she went quickly up the steps, flung the door wide open, seized him by the shoulders, and sent him spinning into the street. He sat, for some moments, on the kerb, as if overcome. Then, exceeding rash, he retraced his way up the steps as best he could, with the apparent intention of inquiring why he had been handled in such unceremonious fashion. Before, however, he had gained the actual summit, he went flying backwards, with the lady's assistance, in such summary fashion that it was only the back of his head being brought into contact with the pavement that stopped him.