How different was the reality! Miss Beale, rushing across London in a taxi, reminded him of nothing more masterful than a cage-bird turned loose in a tempest.
He was about to reenter the mansions, meaning to telephone to both the Fortescue Square house and the Old Broad Street offices, and ask for instant news of Mr.Forbes in either locality.

He was so preoccupied that he failed to notice an approaching taxicab, though the driver was signaling, and even tooted a motor horn loudly in the endeavor to attract his attention.
He did, however, catch his own name, and halted.
"Beg pardon, sir, but you are Mr.Theydon, aren't you ?" said the man.
Then Theydon recognized Evans, the taxi-driver, who had brought him from Fortescue Square.
"Hullo!" he cried.

"Any news of the gray car ?" "Yes, sir, I think so," was the somewhat surprising answer.

"When I dropped you last night I got a fare to Euston.

Then I took a gentleman to the Langham, an', as I felt like a snack, I pulled into the nearest cab rank.