Paddington they were met by a sour-looking man who announced himself as Mr. Panton's head clerk.
"But how do you know it's us?" Jane asked.
"I've been shown your photos," he said. "This way to the car."
It was a beautiful car. Behind it stood a taxi for their luggage.
"I feel like a duchess," said Jane in the car.
"Your hat's all on one side," said Lucilla beside her.
"That will be all then?" said the clerk at the window. "This is the address," and he thrust a paper at them. "The man knows where to go. And this," he said finally, dropping something cold into Lucilla's hand, "is the key. Drive on!"
And the car slid out of the station.
"The key! Whatever of?" Lucilla asked.
"Heaven alone knows. Perhaps we are being kidnapped. Oh, Lucy, how frightfully exciting."
"But what's it the key of?"
"A house. Unless it's the key of a mausoleum, like Emmeline's great aunt battered at the door of."
"But why a key? Oh, Jane, suppose that dusty person at the station didn't really recognise us? Suppose he thought we were somebody else, and this is somebody else's key? Or suppose we're really being kidnapped? Held for ransom, you know, till our guardian shells out. The key—it's so heavy; it might be the key of a church."
"Whatever else it is, it's the key of our future. Don't let's get fluttered, Lucy, like two silly schoolgirls, Where's the paper with the address on it?"
They found it on the floor among their rugs and bags and umbrellas. Lucilla unfolded it.
"What does it say?" Jane asked.
It said "Hope Cottage," adding the names of a road and a suburb.
"There," said Jane, "that's all serene. It's Guardy's handwriting right enough. It's not a bad hand. Curious
