Nell gave Dysart a day’s grace, and when he neither came to see her nor wrote to tell her what next he meant to do, set forth, not without some inward trepidation, on a visit to Mr. King, in Clarges Street. It had been Mr. King who had enjoyed Mama’s custom.

There were certain difficulties in the way of setting forth from Grosvenor Square alone and on foot, but she overcame these by ordering her carriage round to take her to the Green Park, where (she said) she was going to walk with some friends. At the last moment Letty nearly spoilt this careful plan by going with her, but she had the happy thought of saying that she had arranged to meet in the park two ladies whom Letty violently disliked, so Letty decided instead to go with her maid on a shopping expedition. Nell might tell herself that there was no harm in her projected errand, but she could not tell herself that it would be proper to take Letty into her confidence, for, oddly enough, although it might be allowable for herself to seek relief from her difficulties with Mr. King, for Letty to do the same thing would be quite shocking. And she could not help feeling that that was just what Letty would do, once the idea had been put into her head, for she was never out of debt, and had lately been warned by Cardross that he was not going to encourage her extravagant habits by continuing to defray all the totally unnecessary expenses she incurred.

Nell dressed herself with great care for her expedition, choosing from the formidable collection of walking dresses in her wardrobe one of cambric, made high to the neck, and with long sleeves, and only a border of cable trimming to relieve its austerity. For some reason which she could not have explained she felt that when one visited a moneylender one’s habit should be as modest as possible, so she added a sarsnet pelisse of dark blue to her ensemble. This lent her an undeniable note of sobriety, but when it came to the selection of a hat the only one she possessed that approached sobriety was made of olive brown silk. No exigency could induce her to wear this with a blue pelisse, so she was obliged to choose instead a frivolous bonnet that matched the pelisse but was trimmed with lace and flowers. A thick veil served the double purpose of providing a disguise and a touch of rather dowdy respectability. It also staggered her dresser, and certainly made her suspicious; but Nell said glibly that the dust from the streets had slightly roughened her cheeks, an explanation which seemed to satisfy Miss Sutton.

Set down at the Bath Gate, Nell entered the Green Park, and strolled for a little while beside the Basin, trying to recruit her ebbing courage. Two unwelcome thoughts had occurred to her: Mama, when she had turned in desperation to Mr. King, had employed a go-between; and would not Mr. King wish to know her identity? She had not previously considered this possibility, but as she rehearsed, during the drive from Grosvenor Square, what she must say at the coming interview she realized that not the most obliging moneylender was in the least likely to advance a large sum of money to an unknown and heavily veiled lady. Not only would he wish to know what were the circumstances of his client, but no doubt he would demand a note of hand from her. One might, of course, sign this with a fictitious name, but that would hardly satisfy Mr. King. Nell was quite shrewd enough to know that an obscure Mrs. Smith of no address would find it very much harder to borrow money upon interest than would the wife of an extremely wealthy peer.

A good deal daunted, it was with lagging steps that she left the Park, and crossed the ruts and cobbles of Piccadilly. Her errand no longer seemed so innocuous, for while it would be a simple matter, and surely quite unembarrassing, to arrange a loan under the cloak of anonymity, it was another matter altogether to be obliged to announce: “I am Lady Cardross.”

She turned into Clarges Street, and was soon abreast of the discreet-looking house in which Mr. King carried on his business. She hesitated, saw that a man on the opposite side of the street was looking at her, and walked on, blushing under her veil. When she ventured to look round, he had disappeared from her view, so she turned, and began to walk back. By this time she was wishing herself a hundred miles away, dreading what lay before her, no longer sustained by the comforting reflection that it was not so very wrong, after all. A small but insistent inner voice told her that on this occasion Mama would not wish her example to be copied; and again she walked past Mr. King’s house.

From a window in a house on the other side of the street Mr. Hethersett had for several minutes been observing these vacillations through his quizzing-glass. The particular crony whom he had come to visit, having addressed several remarks to him without receiving any other answer than an absent-minded grunt, at last demanded if anything was amiss, and came to see what was claiming his attention. Mr. Hethersett, letting his glass fall on the end of its ribbon, ejaculated: “Good God!” and hastily picked up his hat and gloves. “Can’t stay!” he said. “Remembered something important!”

His astonished friend protested, but Mr. Hethersett, in general polite to a point, did not stay to listen. He was out of the house in a matter of seconds, and crossing the street with long strides.

Nell, drawing a resolute breath, had mounted the first of the steps leading to Mr. King’s front door when she heard herself accosted in slightly breathless accents.

“Cousin!” said Mr. Hethersett.

She jumped, and looked round. Mr. Hethersett raised the hat from his head and executed the bow for which he was famous. “Very happy to have met you!” he said. “Beg you will allow me to escort you home!”

“Sir!” uttered Nell, in what she hoped was the outraged voice of a stranger.

Apparently it was not. “Can’t hope to deceive me in that bonnet,” explained Mr. Hethersett apologetically. “Wore it the day I drove you to the Botanic Gardens.” Acutely aware of the goggling gaze fixed on him from a window across the street, he added: “Take my arm! George Burnley has his eye on us, and it won’t do for him to recognize you. Not that I think he will, but no sense in running the risk.”

“I am very much obliged to you, but pray don’t stay for me!” Nell said, trying to speak in a careless way. “I—I have some business to transact!”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I came across the road.”

“You know?” she repeated, rather scared. “But you cannot know, Felix! Besides—”

“What I mean is, know whose house this is,” he explained. “It ain’t any concern of mine, but it won’t do for you to be doing business with Jew King, cousin. What’s more, if Cardross knew—”

“You won’t tell Cardross?” she cried involuntarily.

He was just about to refute with considerable indignation the suggestion that he was a tale-bearer when prudence intervened. He temporized. “I won’t tell him if you let me escort you home. If you don’t, nothing else for me to do.”

“Felix, I never thought you could be so ungentlemanly!”

“No,” he agreed. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t either. But the thing is it would be a dashed sight more ungentlemanly to go off and leave you to get into a pickle. Jew King! Lord, cousin, do you know the fellow owns an ornamental villa on the river? Slap up to the nines—never saw such a place in your life!”

“No, and I don’t see what that has to say to anything!” retorted Nell crossly.

“Point is, where did he find the blunt to pay for it? From people like you, cousin! Take my word for it!”

“Yes, yes, but I only wish for a loan for a particular reason, just—just a very temporary one!”

He drew her hand through his arm, and obliged her to walk with him up the street. “Believe me, fatal!” he said earnestly.

She sighed, but attempted no further argument. After a pause, Mr. Hethersett coughed, and said delicately: “Very reluctant to offend you—awkward sort of a business! Thing is, might be able to be of service. Tolerably plump in the pocket, you know.”

She was a good deal touched, but said at once: “No, indeed! I am sure there was never anyone half as kind as you, Felix, but that would be the outside of enough! And you mustn’t suppose that I am in the habit of borrowing money: this—there are reasons—why I don’t wish to apply to Cardross for this particular sum! Don’t let us talk about it! It is of no moment, after all.”

“Certainly not: shouldn’t dream of prying into your affairs, cousin!” he replied. “Only wish to say—at least, I don’t, but must!—feel myself obliged to ask you to give me your word you won’t come running back here as soon as my back’s turned!”

She sighed, but said submissively: “No, I won’t do that, if you think it so very bad.”

“Worst thing in the world!” he assured her.

“I don’t see why it should be. After all—”

“You may not see why, but it ain’t a bit of use telling me you didn’t know it, because I’ve been watching you,” said Mr. Hethersett severely. “Going backwards and forwards like a cat on a hot bake-stone!”

“Oh, how can you say such an uncivil thing?” she protested. “I did not!”

“That’s what it looked like to me,” he said, with great firmness. “Not the moment for civility, either. Got a great regard for you, cousin. Dashed fond of Giles, too. Wouldn’t wish to see either of you in a tangle. Thing is—nothing he wouldn’t give you! Officious thing to do—giving you advice—but if you’re in a fix you tell him, not Jew King!”

She said unhappily: “There are circumstances which—Oh, I can’t explain it to you, but he mustn’t know of this!”

To her relief he forbore to press her. She would have been dismayed, however, had she known the construction he had put on her words.