I suggest, sir, you will find it more comfortable,
having me on the train."
"Admirable man--hurry up, then!"
The admirable man saluted respectfully and retired "hurt," as they say
in the cricket reports. He never hurried; it was part of the secret by
which he was always punctual. At the station he even found time to
suggest that his master might wish to send a telegram, and to dispatch
it.
This was on Sunday. They reached London late on Monday evening, and
there--Louis having telegraphed from Paris--Sir Miles found his
favourite room ready for him at Claridge's. Next morning, as his hansom
drew up a few minutes after eleven o'clock by the entrance to Paddington
Station, he observed that the porter who stepped forward from the rank
to attend on him, did so with a preoccupied air. The man was grinning,
and kept glancing along the pavement to his right.
"Luggage on the cab just behind," said Sir Miles, alighting.
"Never mind me; my man will take the tickets and get me a seat.
But what's the excitement here?"
"Lady along there, sir--offering to fight her cabby. Says he can't
drive for nuts--"
"Hullo!"
Sir Miles looked, recognised Miss Sally, and walked briskly towards her.
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