He had an unpleasant
business to face that evening, and felt as though his nerves required
bracing. About ten o'clock he took his leave, and getting into a
hansom bade the cabman drive to Rupert Street, Pimlico, where he
arrived in due course. Having dismissed his cab, he walked slowly down
the street till he reached a small house with red pillars to the
doorway. Here he rang the bell. The door was opened by a middle-aged
woman with a cunning face and a simper. Mr. Quest knew her well.
Nominally the Tiger's servant, she was really her jackal.
"Is Mrs. d'Aubigne at home, Ellen?" he said.
"No, sir," she answered with a simper, "but she will be back from the
music hall before long. She does not appear in the second part. But
please come in, sir, you are quite a stranger here, and I am sure that
Mrs. d'Aubigne will be very glad to see you, for she have been
dreadfully pressed for money of late, poor dear; nobody knows the
trouble that I have had with those sharks of tradesmen."
By this time they were upstairs in the drawing-room, and Ellen had
turned the gas up. The room was well furnished in a certain gaudy
style, which included a good deal of gilt and plate glass. Evidently,
however, it had not been tidied since the Tiger had left it, for there
on the table were cards thrown this way and that amidst an array of
empty soda-water bottles, glasses with dregs of brandy in them, and
other /debris/, such as the ends of cigars and cigarettes, and a
little copper and silver money.
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