“The Cherub; I’ve heard of him, and seen him,” and she nodded. “He’s almost too good to be a swell. Well, who else?”
“There’s the squire here—Mr. Vanley—and that’s all.”
“That’s all, is it?” she added, reflecting. “Oh!” She was silent for a moment, as if pondering over the names, then she looked up. “And I suppose you are a swell, too, eh? You’re cutting a dash down here with your money, ain’t you? It’s like you. You always liked to be thought a gentleman, didn’t you?” and she laughed.
The color flushed his face, then left it pale again.
“I wonder what your game is,” she said, after a moment or two. “But I don’t care. I shan’t interfere. Where are you staying? At the inn where I’ve put up? You may as well come and have some supper with me. We can have a chat over old times,” and she showed her white teeth in a grin.
“I’m—I’m staying with a friend here,” he said, “and I’m going there now.”
He pulled out his watch.
She stretched out her hand and took it as calmly as if it had belonged to her.
“Handsome ticker—jeweled back. You always were fond of that kind of thing. I’ve lost mine.” She slipped the watch into her waistband and smiled, and Mr. Bartley Bradstone bore the appropriation of his property without a protest.
“So you won’t come,” she said. “Very well. But you haven’t done with me yet; don’t flatter yourself I’m going to let you off so easy! Let me see; I’m going to stay here till to-morrow night, just for change of air,” and she laughed. “Meet me here at four o’clock to-morrow afternoon.”