Promise me that, if I put an advertisement in the agonies of either an evening paper which I will name or in the Morning Port, you will keep the appointment I fix, if it is humanly possible." She hesitated a moment, then held out her hand.
"I promise," she said.
"Good for you, Belinda Mary," said he, and tucking her arm in his he led her out of the room switching off the light and racing her down the stairs.
If there was a lot of the schoolgirl left in Belinda Mary Bartholomew, no less of the schoolboy was there in this Commissioner of Police.

He would have danced her through the fog, contemptuous of the proprieties, but he wasn't so very anxious to get her to her cab and to lose sight of her.
"Good-night," he said, holding her hand.
"That's the third time you've shaken hands with me to-night," she interjected.
"Don't let us have any unpleasantness at the last," he pleaded, "and remember." "I have promised," she replied.
"And one day," he went on, "you will tell me all that happened in that cellar." "I have told you," she said in a low voice.
"You have not told me everything, child." He handed her into the cab.

He shut the door behind her and leant through the open window.
"Victoria or Marble Arch ?" he asked politely.
"Charing Cross," she replied, with a little laugh.
He watched the cab drive away and then suddenly it stopped and a figure lent out from the window beckoning him frantically.

He ran up to her.
"Suppose I want you," she asked.
"Advertise," he said promptly, "beginning your advertisement 'Dear Tommy."' "I shall put 'T.

X.,'" she said indignantly.
"Then I shall take no notice of your advertisement," he replied and stood in the middle of the street, his hat in his hand, to the intense annoyance of a taxi-cab driver who literally all but ran him down and in a figurative sense did so until T.X.was out of earshot..