"I shouldn't call it clear," said he, suddenly diffident. "Thick as a blanket."
"It was queer, though, wasn't it?"
"Not a bit. I've been walking up and down past this house for twenty minutes at least. We were bound to meet. Sit still. I'll keep an eye out for an empty taxi. The first thing to do is to see that you get safely down to Mrs. Sparflight's."
"How did you know I was to go there?" she demanded.
"She told me," said he bluntly.
"She wasn't to tell any one—at present." She peered closely,—at the side of his face.
He abruptly changed the subject. "And then I'll come back here and wait till he ventures out. I'm off till nine o'clock. I sha'n't pull his nose this time."
"Please explain," she insisted, clutching at his arm as he started to arise. "Did she send you up here, Mr. Trotter?"
"No, she didn't," said he, almost gruffly, and stood up to hail an approaching automobile. "Can't see a thing," he went on. "We'll just have to stop 'em till we catch one that isn't engaged. Taxi?" he shouted.
"No!" roared a voice from the shroud of mist.
"The butler telephoned for one, I am sure," said she. "He must have been sent away before I came downstairs."
"Don't think about it. You'll get yourself all wrought up and—and— Everything's all right, now. Lady Jane,—I should say Miss—"
"Call me Jane," said she softly.
