‘Champnell!—Thank goodness I’ve found you in!—I want you!—At once!—Don’t stop to talk, but stick your hat on, and put your best foot forward,—I’ll tell you all about it in the cab.’

 

I endeavoured to call his attention to Mr Lessingham’s presence,—but without success.

 

‘My dear fellow—’

 

When I had got as far as that he cut me short.

 

‘Don’t “dear fellow” me!—None of your jabber²! And none of your excuses either! I don’t care if you’ve got an engagement with the Queen, you’ll have to chuck it. Where’s that dashed hat of yours,—or are you going without it? Don’t I tell you that every second cut to waste may mean the difference between life and death?—Do you want me to drag you down to the cab by the hair of your head?’

 

‘I will try not to constrain³ you to quite so drastic a resource,—and I was coming to you at once in any case. I only want to call your attention to the fact that I am not alone.—Here is Mr Lessingham.’

 

In his harum-scarum haste Mr Lessingham had gone unnoticed. Now that his observation was particularly directed to him, Atherton started, turned, and glared at my latest client in a fashion which was scarcely flattering.

 

‘Oh!—It’s you, is it?—What the deuce are you doing here?’

 

Before Lessingham could reply to this most unceremonious query⁴, Atherton, rushing forward, gripped him by the arm.

 

‘Have you seen her?’

 

Lessingham, not unnaturally⁵ nonplussed⁶ by the other’s curious conduct, stared at him in unmistakable

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