“But I can’t miss it!” declared Nan.

“And this ’ere taxi cawn’t catch it.”

“Do you mean you really can’t get her to go?” asked Nan.

“‘Aven’t I just bin sayin’ so?”—­aggressively.  “That’s just ’ow it stands.  She won’t go.”

He ignored Nan’s exclamation of dismay and renewed his investigation of the engine.

“No,” he said at last, straightening himself.  “I cawn’t get you to Paddington—­or anyw’ere else for the matter o’ that!”

He spoke with a stubborn unconcern that was simply maddening.

“Then get me another taxi—­quick!” said Nan.

“W’ere from?”—­contemptuously.  “There ain’t no taxi-rank ’ere in ’Yde Park.”

Nan looked hopelessly round.  Cars and taxis, some with luggage and some without, went speeding past her, but never a single one that was empty.

“Oh”—­she turned desperately to her driver—­“can’t you do anything?  Run down and see if you can hail one for me.  I’ll stay by the taxi.”

He shook his bead.

“Callin’ taxis for people ain’t my job,” he remarked negligently.  “I’m a driver, I am.”

Nan, driven by the extreme urgency of her need, stepped out into the middle of the road and excitedly hailed the next taxicab that passed her carrying luggage.  The occupant, a woman, her attention attracted by Nan’s waving arm, leaned out from the window and called to her driver to stop.  Nan ran forward.

“Oh, are you by any chance going to Paddington?” she asked eagerly.  “My taxi’s broken down and I’m afraid I’ll miss my train.”

The woman smiled her sympathy.  She had a delightful smile.

“How awful for you!  But I’m not going anywhere near there.  I’m so sorry I can’t help.”

The taxicab slid away and Nan stood once more forlornly watching the stream go by.  The precious moments were slipping past, and no one in the world looked in the least as if they were going to Paddington.  The driver, superbly unconcerned, lit up a cigarette, while Nan stood in the middle of the road, which seemed suddenly to have almost emptied of traffic.

All at once a taxi sped up the wide road with only a single suit-case up-ended in front beside the chauffeur.  She planted herself directly in its path, and waved so frantically that the driver slowed up, although with obvious reluctance.  Someone looked out of the window, and with a vague, troubled surprise Nan realised that the cab’s solitary passenger was of the masculine persuasion.  But she was far beyond being deterred by a mere detail of that description.

“Are you going to Paddington?” she asked breathlessly.

“Yes, I am,” came the answer.  The speaker’s voice had a slight, well-bred drawl in it, reminiscent of the public school.  “Can I do anything for you?”

“You can drive me there, if you will,” she replied, with the bluntness of despair.  “My taxi’s broken down.”