On turning over the page, however, I saw in italics: “Ellerdale Road. See Hampstead.”
“Ah!” I cried, “there is another; but it’s Ellerdale Road,” and after a few moments’ eager search I discovered it. “This road runs from Fitzjohn’s Avenue to Arkwright Road in Frognal. Have you ever heard of them before?”
It was really remarkable that a young girl should thus be so utterly lost in London. I, a man-about-town, knew the West End as I knew the way around my own chambers; and I thought I knew London; but now, on reflection, saw how utterly ignorant I was of the great world which lies beyond those few thoroughfares wherein are situated the theatres, the clubs, and the houses of the wealthy. For the bachelor who lives the life of London the world revolves around Piccadilly Circus.
My pretty companion stood puzzled. It was apparent that she had never heard of any of the thoroughfares I had mentioned, yet it was equally extraordinary that any persons living in London should be entirely ignorant of the district in which they resided.
“The thoroughfare in Hampstead is Ellerdale Road, while that in Lewisham is Ellerdale Street. It must be either one or the other, for they are the only two in London?” I said.
“How far are they apart?” she inquired, looking up from the book, dismayed.
“I don’t know the distance,” I was compelled to admit. “But the one is on one side of London, and the other is in the opposite direction—perhaps nearly eight miles away.”
“I believe it’s Ellerdale Street. I’ve always called it that, and neither of my aunts has corrected me.” Then suddenly, as she glanced round the room, she started as if in terror, and pointing to the little side-table, cried—
“Oh, look!”
I turned quickly, but saw nothing.