"What sort of a voice had she?" I asked. "Was it at all masculine?" "Oh, jest!" "Just what?" "Maskyline." "Do you know what masculine means?" "Frightened-like, I expex you mean." "You're a f— Was it at all like a man's voice?" Cabby seemed to think this was a question that required a good deal of consideration before answering. "Well, it might ha' bin a man's voice," he replied, speaking slowly. "Similarly it might not. It was a trifle hoarse for a woman, but I put that down to fright." "You wouldn't swear in a court of law that it was a man's voice?" "No, I wouldn't, governor. I'm pretty certain it was a woman." No more was to be learned from the cabman, so, thanking him for his information, I quitted the tavern.[Pg 31] As I entered the hansom, the driver exclaimed with a grin: [Pg 31] "Given you the slip, sir? Reckon she's a cough-drop, and no blooming kid!" I turned a withering frown on this vulgar familiarity. "Drive to Belgrave Square," I exclaimed loftily, "and look sharp." I flung myself back in the cab in a fever-heat. "The affair is growing exciting," I muttered. "Was it a man or a woman? If a woman—who? If a man—was it George? if not—who? Did George travel by the other line, I wonder, and will he come this morning to claim his bride, or will he not? Will the veiled lady turn up in my uncle's drawing-room or at the altar-rails, and create some melodramatic scene? Patience—patience! we shall see. Daphne, you may yet be mine." [Pg 32] [Pg 32]