The man rose and jerked his head at his accomplice. The coachman was hauled to his feet and bodily thrown onto the box. His hat had disappeared and he put his face into his hands as the crowd taunted him and cheered. Drinkwater turned to the window.

'Would you like me to accompany you, ma'am?' The face was pale and round in the gloom. He could not hear her whispered reply but the door swung open and he climbed in.

'Drive on!' he commanded as he closed the door. When he had pulled the blinds he sat opposite the occupant. She was little more than a child, still in her teens. The yellow carriage lights showed a plain face that seemed somehow familiar. He removed his hat.

'You are not hurt?' She shook her head and cleared her throat.

'I… I am most grateful, sir.'

'It was nothing. I think, ma'am, you should tell your coachman to be less eager to use his whip.'

She nodded.

'Are you travelling far?' he went on.

'To Lothian's hotel in Albemarle Street. Will that take you far out of your way? If so, I shall have poor Matthew drive you wherever you wish.' She began to recover her composure.

Drinkwater grinned. 'I think that inadvisable. My lodgings are off the Strand. I can return thither on foot. Please do not trouble yourself further.'

'You are very kind, sir. I see that you are a sea-officer. May I enquire your name?'

'Drinkwater, ma'am, Lieutenant Nathaniel Drinkwater. May I know whom I had the honour of assisting?'

'My name is Onslow, Lieutenant, Frances Onslow.'

'Your servant, Miss Onslow.' They smiled at each other and Drinkwater recognised the reason for her apparent familiarity. 'Forgive my curiosity but are you related to Admiral Sir Richard Onslow?'

'His daughter, Mr Drinkwater. You are acquainted with my father?'