It was his
wife and her son.
Monckton started, but the lady gave no sign of recognition. She bowed,
but it was to a gentleman at Monckton's side, who had raised his hat to
her with marked respect.
"What a beautiful crechaar!" said a little swell to the gentleman in
question. "You know her?"
"Very slightly."
"Who is she? A duchess?"
"No; a stock-broker's wife, Mrs. Braham. Why, she is a known beauty."
That was enough for Monckton. He hung back a little, and followed the
carriage. He calculated that if it left the Park at Hyde Park corner, or
the Marble Arch, he could take a hansom and follow it.
When the victoria got clear of the crowd at the corner, Mrs. Braham
leaned forward a moment and whispered a word to her coachman. Instantly
the carriage dashed at the Chesterfield Gate and into Mayfair at such a
swift trot that there was no time to get a cab and keep it in sight.
Monckton lighted a cigarette. "Clever girl!" said he, satirically. "She
knew me, and never winked."
The next day he went to the lawyer and said, "I have a little favor to
ask you, sir.
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