self down on to the seat, and with his stick nearly broke the glass in front of him. The man looked round as if he had been shot. Beresford motioned him to ease up. There a few yards in front of him was the Rain-Girl's taxi, which had been obscured by a large car.
When the man had slowed down, Beresford put his head out of the window.
"Follow that taxi with the girl in it," he said.
"Right-o, sir," said the man with a wink.
Beresford leaned back, conscious for the first time of the strain of the last few minutes. He felt weak and giddy, and recalled Tallis' injunction to avoid anything in the nature of excitement. Avoid the Rain-Girl! He laughed. At last he was on her track. Where she went he would go. He watched her taxi as one hypnotised.
As it approached Victoria Station he saw the driver turn and make an enquiry, then he swung out to the left and made for the South-Eastern Station, Beresford's man keeping about twenty yards behind. As his taxi drew up, the Rain-Girl was just getting out of hers. Yes, there was no room for doubt, it was she. A porter was hurling her luggage on to a truck and apparently counselling haste. She was late, obviously.
Immediately she had turned to follow her porter, Beresford jumped out and, handing the taxi-man two one-pound notes, followed her, leaving the man inarticulate.
Yes, there was undoubtedly reason for haste, the
