“For God’s sake, come away!” he whispered, sternly.

And Rachel did come a few yards before a flicker of her spirit called a halt.

“Why should I run away?” she demanded, in sudden tears of mortification and of weakness combined.  “I am innocent—­so why should I?”

“Because they don’t like innocent people; and there appear to be no police in these parts; and if you fall into their hands—­well, it would be better for you if you had been found guilty and were safe and sound in Newgate now!”

That was exactly what Rachel had felt herself; she took a few steps more, but still with reluctance and irresolution; and once round the nearest corner, and out of that hateful street for ever, she turned to her companion in unconcealed despair.

“But what am I to do?” she cried.  “But where am I to turn?”

“Mrs. Minchin,” said Steel, “can you not really trust me yet?”

He stood before her under a street lamp, handsome still, upright for all his years, strong as fate itself, and surely kinder than any fate which Rachel Minchin had yet met with in the course of her short but checkered life.  And yet—­and yet—­she trusted and distrusted him too!

“I can and I cannot,” she sighed; and even with the words one reason occurred to her.  “You have followed me, you see, after all!”

“I admit it,” he replied, “and without a particle of shame.  My dear lady, I was not going to lose sight of you to-night!”

“And why not?”

“Because I foresaw what might happen, and may happen still!  Nay, madam, it will, if you continue to let your pride sit upon your common sense.  Do you hear them now?  That means the police, and when they’re dispersed they’ll come this way to King’s Road.  Any moment they may be upon us.  And there’s a hansom dropped from heaven!”

He raised his umbrella, the bell tinkled, the two red eyes dilated and widened in the night, then with a clatter the horse was pulled up beside the curb, and Steel spread his hand before the muddy wheel.

“Be sensible,” he whispered, “and jump in!  In a hansom you can see where you are going; in a hansom you can speak to the driver or attract the attention of any decent person on the sidewalk.  Ah! you will trust me so far at last—­I thank you from my heart!”

“Where to, sir?” asked the cabman through the roof.

And Rachel listened with languid curiosity; but that was all.  She had put herself in this man’s hands; resistance was at an end, and a reckless indifference to her fate the new attitude of a soul as utterly overtaxed and exhausted as its tired tenement of clay.

“Brook Street,” said Steel, after a moment’s pause—­“and double-quick for a double fare.  We shall be there in a quarter of an hour,” he added reassuringly as the trap-door slammed, “and you will find everything ready for you, beginning with something to eat.  I, at all events, anticipated the verdict; if you don’t believe me, you will when we get there, for they have been ready for you all day.  Do you know Claridge’s Hotel, by the way?”