Chapter Twenty Three.
In the Shadow.
Ere we had gained the Walworth Road, Yelverton, so breathless in his haste that he could scarce gasp “Good night” to the small crowd who saluted him as he passed, overtook us.
“Where is she?” he inquired.
“There—in front of us, standing on the kerb,” I answered, halting in order to escape observation. “She’s evidently waiting for an omnibus.”
My surmise proved true, for a few moments later she entered one of those green omnibuses which ply to Camberwell Green, and the moment the conveyance moved off again Muriel, turning to me quickly, said—
“We must now lose no time, but take a cab at once to Herne Hill.”
We therefore hailed the first four-wheeler, and in one of those most terrible of all conveyances which ply for hire in London—vehicles known in the vernacular as “fever-traps”—we made our way with much rattle and jolting along the Camberwell Road, past Camberwell Green, and up Denmark Hill.