The professor was surprised to find Frank there, and he was still more surprised to find the boy did not enthuse in the least over the races.
“What’s the matter with you?” demanded the little man, in his big, hoarse voice. “You must be seriously ill!”
“Don’t bother me,” said Frank.
But the professor did bother him. He would not let the boy alone, but continued to ply him with questions.
Frank did not think it best to tell of the remarkable warning he had received and of the grip of the icy hand, but he did tell how he had seen Inza Burrage and she had failed to recognize him.
“Miss Burrage?” exclaimed Scotch, who had known the girl at Fardale. “In England? You must be mistaken!”
“I am not,” declared the boy, positively. “I have tried to think that I was, but I have given that up. It was Inza, and she gave me the cut. I will find her, and demand an explanation.”
“Find her! Well, if you couldn’t find her after losing sight of her in this crowd, it is not likely you will be able to find her in London. There is little show for that.”
Frank was forced to confess to himself that this was true, but still he felt that something would bring them together again.
Instead of watching the races, Frank watched the faces in the shifting throng, longing and hoping to catch a glimpse of Inza once more.