As they drew near to Liverpool Didon explained that they must still be very careful. It would not do for them to declare at once their destination on the platform,--so that every one about the station should know that they were going on board the packet for New York. They had time enough. They must leisurely look for the big boxes and other things, and need say nothing about the steam packet till they were in a cab. Marie's big box was directed simply 'Madame Racine, Passenger to Liverpool;'--so also was directed a second box, nearly as big, which was Didon's property. Didon declared that her anxiety would not be over till she found the ship moving under her. Marie was sure that all their dangers were over,--if only Sir Felix was safe on board. Poor Marie! Sir Felix was at this moment in Welbeck Street, striving to find temporary oblivion for his distressing situation and loss of money, and some alleviation for his racking temples, beneath the bedclothes.
When the train ran into the station at Liverpool the two women sat for a few moments quite quiet. They would not seek remark by any hurry or noise. The door was opened, and a well-mannered porter offered to take their luggage. Didon handed out the various packages, keeping however the jewel-case in her own hands. She left the carriage first, and then Marie. But Marie had hardly put her foot on the platform, before a gentleman addressed her, touching his hat, 'You, I think, are Miss Melmotte.' Marie was struck dumb, but said nothing. Didon immediately became voluble in French. No; the young lady was not Miss Melmotte; the young lady was Mademoiselle Racine, her niece. She was Madame Racine. Melmotte! What was Melmotte? They knew nothing about Melmottes. Would the gentleman kindly allow them to pass on to their cab?
But the gentleman would by no means kindly allow them to pass on to their cab. With the gentleman was another gentleman,--who did not seem to be quite so much of a gentleman;--and again, not far in the distance Didon quickly espied a policeman, who did not at present connect himself with the affair, but who seemed to have his time very much at command, and to be quite ready if he were wanted. Didon at once gave up the game,--as regarded her mistress.
'I am afraid I must persist in asserting that you are Miss Melmotte,' said the gentleman, 'and that this other--person is your servant, Elise Didon. You speak English, Miss Melmotte.' Marie declared that she spoke French. 'And English too,' said the gentleman. 'I think you had better make up your minds to go back to London. I will accompany you.'