"Mr. Etheridge!" he asked.
Frank replied in the affirmative.
The old man nodded.
"All right, sir; the brougham is waiting;" then he looked round expectantly, and Frank went and got Stella out.
The old man just glanced at her, not curiously, but in a mechanical sort of way, as if he were a machine, and he turned toward the carriage and took up the bags.
Stella laid her hand on Frank's arm with a questioning gesture; it was not exactly one of fear or of suspicion, but a strange, instinctive commingling of both sensations.
"Ask him, Frank!" she murmured.
Frank nodded, understanding her in a moment, and stopped the strange old man.
"Wait a moment," he said; "you come from——"
The man looked round.