At the sound of his voice the rider uttered an exclamation and flung himself from the saddle.
“Mr. Howard, I think?” he said.
“Yes,” said Varley, coolly. “It’s Lord Druce, isn’t it?”
He made the guess as if not quite certain.
“Yes,” said Norman, eagerly.
Varley’s face darkened. He had heard no ill of the lad, but he could not forget that he belonged to the aristocratic set Varley had learned to hate for Esmeralda’s sake.
“So you’ve come back to Three Star?” he said.
“Yes,” responded Norman, wiping his face, for he was hot and tired, and there was a tone of anxiety and eagerness in his voice. “It is strange that I should run against you the first moment of my arrival—the man I wanted to see so badly.”
“Well, I am here, as you say,” said Varley, laconically. “What do you want with me?”
Norman looked round as if he did not desire to be heard.