"
The jeweller brought his hands together, and washed them nervously.
"Excuse me a moment; I'll consult my partner."
He went away, and from afar he and his partner spied her nervously. He
came back with a forced smile. Mrs. Bellew was sitting as he had left
her.
"It's a fortunate chance; I think we can just do it, madam."
"Give me notes, please, and a sheet of paper." The jeweller brought
them.
Mrs. Bellew wrote a letter, enclosed it with the bank notes in the bulky
envelope she had brought, addressed it, and sealed the whole.
"Call a cab, please!"
The jeweller called a cab.
"Chelsea Embankment!"
The cab bore her away.
Again in the crowded streets so full of traffic, people turned to look
after her. The cabman, who put her down at the Albert Bridge, gazed
alternately at the coins in his hands and the figure of his fare, and
wheeling his cab towards the stand, jerked his thumb in her direction.
Mrs. Bellew walked fast down a street till, turning a corner, she came
suddenly on a small garden with three poplar-trees in a row. She opened
its green gate without pausing, went down a path, and stopped at the
first of three green doors. A young man with a beard, resembling an
artist, who was standing behind the last of the three doors, watched her
with a knowing smile on his face.
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