Giving the order “Trafalgar Square!” Westerham entered the cab.
They drove in complete silence along Piccadilly, down St. James's Street, and through Pall-Mall, and rapidly approached the Nelson monument. As the lights of the Grand Hotel came into view, Westerham leaned towards the girl and said very gravely:
“Do you think Trafalgar Square is near enough to your home? Had I not better tell the man to put you down at the corner of Downing Street?”
The girl gave a quick gasp, and then a stifled cry.
Westerham could see her eyes shining in the dimly-lit little vehicle.
“What do you know?” she cried.
“If you mean,” answered Westerham, “what do I know of the fat man and the jewels and your mission in Hyde Park—nothing. I give you my word I know nothing at all. But I do know you are Lady Kathleen Carfax, and that your father is Prime Minister of England, and that, without any high-flown sentiments, it is at least my duty to see you reach home in safety.”
Obedient to Westerham's instructions, the cabman had pulled up at the kerb beneath the monument.
“If you are sure,” said Westerham, “that you would rather alight here, of course I must defer to your wishes. But at least permit me to follow you at a respectful distance down Whitehall. I cannot tell why, but I feel uneasy about the last stages of your journey.”
Turning towards him, the girl held out her hand impulsively.