Mr. Joseph Dotting, having driven a hansom for several years, was compelled by force of circumstances to learn late in life to drive a taxi-cab or perish. He was not a man who, as a rule, took any absorbing interest in the events of the day, with the occasional exception, perhaps, of an exciting murder case; but he was always a close student of starting prices.

Having been ordered to wait outside Marshall and Snelgrove's on Tuesday morning, however, the two ladies whom he had driven from Eccleston Square kept him so long that he took Monday's 6.30 edition of the Evening News from beneath his seat. Happening to glance through the advertisement colums, his attention became presently arrested by the offer of Five Pounds reward.

"Dashed if that ain't the party I drove to Blackheath the other afternoon," he said half aloud. "Leastways, I picked her up in Golfney Place whether it was Number 5 or not. 'Tain't likely there was two of 'em!"

Mr. Joseph Botting felt certain that he could recognize the house again, and when at last the two ladies came forth from the shop, followed by a boy who was laden with many small parcels, Mr. Botting, in his haste to set them down at Eccleston Square again, put more than one life in peril.

The next thing was to drive to the nearest public-house, where it did not take many seconds to swallow a pint of six ale. The sandwiches which a careful wife had wrapped in a piece of newspaper, could wait until he had made certain of his good fortune. On reaching Golfney Place, he saw beyond a doubt that the house from which he had driven the young lady and her luggage was assuredly Number 5, and then Mr. Joseph Botting lost no time in making his way to Upper Grosvenor Street, where the advertisement said he was to apply.

Before he had time to get down from his seat Jimmy, having seen him through the dining-room window, came out with his napkin in his hand.

"'Morning, guvnor," said Joseph. "I've come about this 'ere five pound reward."

"You have only to tell me where you left the young lady," replied
Jimmy, taking out his pocket-case and temptingly exposing a bank note.

"Well, you see, guvnor, I can't call to mind the address," said Joseph.

"It wasn't a railway station!"

"No," was the answer. "I'll tell you where it was."

"Where?" demanded Jimmy.

"Blackheath," said Dotting. "'Cabman,' she says, 'drive to the Marble Arch.' But when we got there she tells me to go over Westminster Bridge to Blackheath. As soon as we were at the village, as they calls it, she gets out and looks round for a second and then she darts across the road by the cab rank and goes into a sort of registry office. By an' by," Joseph Botting continued, "she comes out agin and tells me to drive on to—blest if I can recollect the name o' the place."

"Could you find your way to the house again?" suggested Jimmy, as
Botting took off his cap and rubbed his crown.

"Like a shot, guvnor."

"Jump up, then," said Jimmy. "The moment I hear that the young lady has been at the house you shall have the fiver and a good tip beyond your fare."

"Right you are," cried Botting, and Jimmy, re-entering the hall, spoke a few words of unsatisfactory explanation to Sybil, while he thrust his arms into the sleeves of his motor coat.

When once he was on the way he quickly recovered his customary self-control. Lighting a cigar, he leaned back in the cab and was soon on the Surrey side of Westminster Bridge. He was driven along the dreary length of Walworth Road, to Camberwell Green, through Peckham to Lewisham. From the Lee High Road Joseph Botting turned along a shady thoroughfare to the left, presently reaching Blackheath with Greenwich Park on the farther side, and immediately on the right a row of high, old-fashioned houses.

"Here we are, guvnor!" exclaimed Joseph, applying his brake, and Jimmy was out on the pavement in an instant, across the long front garden, ringing the bell, knocking at the door.

"Miss Rosser?" he asked when it was opened by a middle-aged woman.

"She went out three-quarters of an hour ago," was the answer.

"At what time do you expect her home?" said Jimmy.

"She ordered tea for half-past four," replied the woman.

Jimmy could not wait until half-past four! He looked at his watch and saw there would be more than an hour!

"Can you tell me where she has gone?" he inquired.

"Well, she asked how to find Greenwich Park," said the woman, and as Jimmy turned away from the door he took out his pocket-book. Standing on the pavement he handed a five-pound note, together with the fare from Upper Grosvenor Street and a liberal tip to Joseph Botting, who grinned with delight, then Jimmy crossed the road and struck across the heath. A few children were scampering about, some men were playing at golf on this, the oldest course in England. Entering the park a few minutes later he followed the broad walk, bordered by Spanish chestnut trees, keeping the while a brisk lookout and hesitating whether to take one of the diverging paths to the right or left.

Surely that must be Bridget! She was scarcely to be mistaken, with her slender figure, her rather closely fitting skirt, her wide-brimmed hat, her wealth of chestnut-coloured hair! On Jimmy's left was the observatory, and two or three people were adjusting their watches by the large clock in the wall. She stood close to an iron railing, from which sloped down a grassy hill, and beyond lay Greenwich Hospital and the Thames; on its farther bank tall chimneys rising from amidst the docks and houses of the Isle of Dogs.

With her back still towards him, her eyes upon the wonderful prospect, she had no suspicion of Jimmy's propinquity until he mentioned her name.

"Bridget!" he whispered, close behind her, and on the instant she turned, her face radiant with joy.

"Oh, I wondered whether you would come!" she cried.

"What else could I do?" he said. "Now I am here, where can we go to talk about the most important subject in the world?"

"Let us," suggested Bridget, "stroll across the grass!"

They soon reached a secluded spot, and found some chairs near an ancient, ivy-covered tree-trunk, surrounded by an iron fence. The sun was shining brightly, and a fawn, which had strayed from the small herd of fallow deer, left off browsing to gaze. As Jimmy and Bridget sat down it turned and slowly ambled away.

"Why did you choose this particular place of all others?" asked Jimmy.

"Once upon a time," said Bridget, "years and years ago, my aunts used to live at Blackheath."

"I should rather like to take you to them at Sandbay," replied Jimmy. "I have been there. They are the dearest old ladies, and your proper place seems to be with them—for the present!"

"Oh, I couldn't," she exclaimed. "Especially after what I imagine you have told them about me. I really couldn't go," she said.

"Then you leave me only one alternative," said Jimmy. "I was anxious to do everything decently and in order, but it appears you won't let me."

"You have not asked why I left Golfney Place," suggested Bridget, leaning forward in her chair and digging the ferrule of her sunshade into the turf.

"I fancy I know," said Jimmy. "You lacked courage to face old
Faversham."

"Oh, how abominably I treated him!" murmured Bridget.

"There is not the least doubt about it," Jimmy admitted.

"So very, very badly," she continued gravely, with her eyes on the grass, "that I wonder you took the trouble to find me."

"Do you?" he asked, and as she remained silent for a few moments Jimmy repeated the question. "Do you?" he said.

"Why, no," she cried, raising her head and facing him with a laugh. "But it is more than I deserve," she added. "Jimmy, I was in great straits. I saw how fast my money was going, that I should have none left in a year or two, and so when Colonel Faversham bothered me to marry him I gave in. I thought I could do it, you know."

"Until I came to undeceive you!" suggested Jimmy.

"Yes," said Bridget; "but I was afraid you might be—be disgusted! I wanted you to know, and yet I didn't. I tried to tell you time after time, and still I couldn't say the word which I thought might drive you away from me. I saw it would be impossible to marry Colonel Faversham, but if I threw him over what should I do in the future? I hesitated and hesitated. I went to Crowborough because I hoped the influence of the place might give me courage; it didn't and I had some wild idea of appealing to Mark for help. That—that wouldn't do, and Colonel Faversham insisted I should tell him when I would be his wife—he talked of our being married within a week or ten days. Oh dear! how hard I tried to make him understand; but I couldn't succeed, and at last in desperation a fresh idea occurred to me: I would run away! I told him to come for his answer the next morning—oh, I know I was horrid to him!"

"Well, we agree about that," said Jimmy. "We are going to agree about everything, you see. I suppose," he added, "you thought you would appeal to me as a sort of forlorn hope?"

"Oh, it was scarcely worth calling a hope," she answered. "You had said so much about truthfulness. You could forgive anything else but deceit, and of course I had deceived you from the beginning."

"So that you love me in the end," he said.

"Ah, Jimmy!" murmured Bridget. "But nobody will ever relieve it. They will think I threw Colonel Faversham over because you were the richer. It is only natural they should say that."

"Let them say what they like," was the answer. "When you told me about your engagement I could do only one thing. I should have liked to ask you to come away with me then and there; but I—well, it couldn't be done, dear. The moment I heard you were free of the colonel, I hadn't a doubt in the world. Bridget, you will have to make up your mind to marry me at once."

She did not attempt to gainsay him, but placed her hand in his, and a few minutes later they rose from their chairs, walking across the grass to the gate by which Jimmy had entered the park. Bridget's step was light, she hung upon his arm as they crossed the heath, the sun shone upon her and she looked as if she had not a care in the world.

"I must say 'good-bye' now," said Jimmy, outside the garden gate. "I shall see you to-morrow afternoon, but Sybil must come in the morning."

"At last!" cried Bridget, with a smile.

"Well, I always told you she would come," he answered. "For the rest, I think your best plan will be to return to Golfney Place—it won't be for many days, you know. Suppose I see Miller this evening and Sybil can bring the motor-car to drive you back."