It was in vain Tom hung back, feebly protesting that she had gone--there was no doubt that she had gone to Arlington Street. Will-he, nill-he, he was dragged along. A moment and the two, Coke swinging his cane ominously, were half-way up the Row. In the midst of his agony Tom got a notion that his companion was taking sidelong looks at his clothes; and he grew hot and hotter, fearing what was to come. When they were within a few yards of the door, a hackney coach passed them, and, turning, came to a stand before the house.
"There! What did I say?" Sir Hervey muttered. "I take it, we are only just in time."
"Perhaps it's the coach that took her away," Tom suggested, trying to restrain his companion. "Shall I go in--I know the people--and--and inquire? Yes, you'd better let me do that," he continued eagerly, buttonholing Sir Hervey, "perhaps they did not know you. I really think you had better leave it to me, Sir Hervey. I----"
"No, thank you," Coke answered drily. "There's a shorter way. Are you here to take up, my man?"
"To be sure, your honour," the coachman answered readily. "And long life to her!"
"Eh?"
"Long life to the bride, your honour!"
"Ah!" Sir Hervey said, his face growing dark. "I thought so. I think, my lad," he continued to Tom, as he knocked at the door, "she and somebody have made a fool of you!"
"No, no," Tom said, distractedly. "It's--it's not for her."
"We shall soon learn!" Coke answered. And he rapped again imperatively.