"Didn't take you long to come up in the world," she piped. "Always thought you were a bit of a fraud."
Barraclough gasped. The disappointment was so cruel.
"You are making a mistake," he said and opened the taxi door.
"You've had a shave, that's all, but, bless you, that don't deceive me."
"Look here——" he began.
"You don't want to be recognised, my dear. I can easily forget, you know, if I'm encouraged." She stretched out a filthy clawlike hand.
There was something queer in her manner—a difference from the rank and file of Van Diest's regiment.
Clearly, too, her poverty was genuine. With a little tact her allegiance might be diverted. He pulled a note case from his pocket and detached a fiver.
"Take that," he said, "and if you want more——"
He rattled off Lord Almont's address in Park Lane.