this, although she was ten minutes late.

Her instructions as to what to do at the Savoy were clear. If she were
not met in the foyer, she was to go into the restaurant and ask for a
table reserved for Mr. N. Smith. There she was to sit and wait to be
joined by him. She had never contemplated having to carry out the latter
clause, however; and when she had loitered for a few seconds, the thought
rushed over her that here was a loop-hole through which to slip, if she
wanted a loop-hole.

One side of her did want it: the side she knew best and longest as
herself, Annesley Grayle, a timid girl brought up conventionally, and
taught that to rely on others older and wiser than she was the right way
for a well-born, sheltered woman to go through life. The other side, the
new, desperate side that Mrs. Ellsworth's "stuffiness" had developed, was
not looking for any means of escape; and this side had seized the upper
hand since the alarm of the burglars in the Strand.

Annesley marched into the restaurant with the air of a soldier facing his
first battle, and asked a waiter where was Mr. Smith's table.

The youth dashed off and produced a duke-like personage, his chief. A
list was consulted with care; and Annesley was respectfully informed that
no table had been engaged by a Mr. N. Smith for dinner that evening.

"Are you sure?" persisted Annesley, bewildered and disappointed.

"Yes, miss--madame, I am sure we have not the name on our list," said the
head-waiter.