“I’ll stop you in a minute; keep on to the left.” Pollie spoke to me. “What did it say in the letter was the name of the street in which is the entrance to the back door?”
“Rosemary Street.”
“Of course! I couldn’t remember its stupid name.”
“But I shouldn’t tell him to put us down just there. You don’t know who may be waiting for us.”
I was leaning over the front of the cab, keeping a sharp look-out. There were the crowded trams and omnibuses, and many people on the pavements; but I noticed nothing in any way suspicious.
“Who should be waiting for us? Haven’t we shaken Mr. Lander off? Didn’t the cabman say so?”
“Yes. But—you never know.”
“What do you mean? What are you driving at?”
“Nothing. Only it’s past nine. The letter said that it was the time your greatest peril began.”
“What nonsense you do talk! Do you think I pay attention to such stuff? Lucky I’m not nervous, or you’d give me the fidgets. The sooner everybody understands that I intend to go in and out of my own house at any time I please the less trouble there is likely to be. I’m not a child, to be told at what time I’m to come home.”