"Five. . . ."

"Give it to him! Good heavens, do I look as if I were joking? Pay
him, pay him!"

Killigrew counted out five sovereigns, perhaps six, he was not sure.
The chauffeur swooped them up, and set off.

"Molly Killigrew. . . ."

"Not a word till I get to the rooms. Hurry! Daniel, if you say
anything I shall fall down!"

He led her to the lift. Curious glances followed, but these signified
nothing. On a night such as this was there would be any number of
accidents. Once in the living-room of the luxurious suite, Mrs.
Killigrew staggered over to the divan and tumbled down upon it. She
began to cry hysterically.

"Molly, old girl! Molly!" He put his arm tenderly across her heaving
shoulders and kneeled. His old girl! Love crowded out all other
thoughts. Money-mad he might be, but he never forgot that Molly had
once fried his meat and peeled his potatoes and darned his socks.
"Molly, what has happened? Who did this? Tell me, and I'll kill him!"

"Dan, when they started up the street for the prime minister's house, I
could not get out of the crowd. I was afraid to. It was so foggy you
had to follow the torches. I did not know what they were about till
the police rushed us. One grabbed me, but I got away." All this
between sobs. "Dan, I don't want to be a suffragette." Sob. "I don't