She nodded. Then, just as the man raised his whistle, she shook her head.
"No thanks," she said. "I think I'll walk."
She passed out across the courtyard and mingled with the stream of pedestrians. Right at the beginning of her adventure she had nearly blundered. She laughed, with a certain glee. It was novel and exhilarating, this conspiracy against the powers that be. There was something that appealed to the adventurous within her in thus being under the necessity of covering her tracks.
Certainly, she was a novice. It would never have done to lay a trail right from the hotel door to Laurel Cottage.
She walked into Charing Cross Station and approached the driver of the first vacant taxi that offered.
"I want to go to Dulwich Village."
The man pulled a wry face. If he undertook that journey it would mean that he would in all probability have to run back empty, and then he would miss the theatre people.
"Sorry, miss. But I don't think I've got enough petrol!"
"Oh, how tiresome."
The American accent, now suddenly pronounced, induced him to change his mind.