So, slowly and with a dazzling smile, London put on her cloak of darkness.  By eight o’clock you could not see two paces ahead.

On Wednesday morning the fog was denser than it had been the night before.  There was no sign of its abatement, not a puff of wind elbowed its way through the yellow drift, and the cold was intense.  The prospect of leaving a comfortable home at nine in the evening to undertake a journey of some two miles, clad in habiliments which, while highly ornamental, were about as protective from cold as a grape-skin rug, was anything but alluring.

For reasons of my own, however, I was determined to get to the Ball.  My sister, whom nothing daunted, and Jill, who was wild with excitement, and had promised readily to reserve more dances than could possibly be rendered, were equally firm.  Jonah thought it a fool’s game, and said as much.  Berry was of the same opinion, but expressed it less bluntly, and much more offensively.  After a long tirade—­

“All right,” he concluded.  “You go.  It’s Lombard Street to a china orange you’ll never get there, and, if you do, you’ll never get back.  None of the band’ll turn up, and if you find twenty other fools in the building to exchange colds with, you’ll be lucky.  To leave your home on a night like this is fairly clamouring for the special brand of trouble they keep for paralytic idiots.  I’ve known you all too long to expect sagacity, but the instinct of self-preservation characterizes even the lower animals.  What swine, for instance, would leave its cosy sty——­”

“How dare you?” said Daphne.  “Besides, you can’t say ‘its.’  Swine’s plural.”

“My reference was to the fever-swine,” was the cold reply.  “A singular species.  Comparable only with the deep-sea dip-sheep.”

“I think you’re very unkind,” said Jill, pouting.  “Boy can walk in front with a lamp, and Jonah can walk behind with a lamp——­”

“And I can walk on both sides, I suppose, with a brazier in either hand.  Oh, this is too easy.”

“We can but try,” said I.

“You can but close your ugly head,” said Berry.  “If you want to walk about London half the night, looking like a demobilised pantaloon, push off and do it.  But don’t try and rope in innocent parties.”

To this insult I made an appropriate reply, and the argument waxed.  At length——­

“There’s no reason,” said Jonah, “why we shouldn’t go on like this for ever.  If we had any sense, we should send for Fitch and desire his opinion.  It’s rather more valuable than any one of ours, and, after all, he’s more or less interested.  And you can trust him.”

Now, Fitch was our chauffeur.

Amid a chorus of approval, I went to the telephone to speak to the garage.

I was still waiting to be connected, when—­

“Is that the Club?” said a voice.

“No,” said I.  “Nothing like it.”

“Well, there’s a bag of mine in the hall, and——­”