Topham saw the fire die out of the eyes that circled him. For a moment their owners hesitated; then—
“Hurrah for Dutch Elsie!” yelled one, and the others took up the cry. “Hurrah for Dutch Elsie.”
“Out of here. Quick!” the woman was clamoring in the navy man’s ear. “Quick. The police are coming. Quick!”
But Topham stood still. “You,” he cried. “You!”
“Yes, I! I’ll explain later. But come now! Quick! come! Dios! Come!”
And Topham went.
CHAPTER XXI
Life was coming back again into Topham’s arm, and by main strength he forced his way through the crowd, making a path to the door for himself and the countess. Once through the aperture, progress was easier, though not too easy, for the crowd outside was packed and jammed about the door. At last, however, he was free, just as the clatter of hoofs on the granite told that the police patrol had arrived.
The countess clung to his arm, but made no attempt to speak. She was dressed plainly, like a factory worker of the poorer class. She looked much older than when he had seen her last, and he guessed that some of the shadows on her face had been purposely put there by skillful hands. Her hair puzzled him at first, but he soon guessed that its grayish tinge was due to powder.
The mob was dispersing, fleeing in all directions, and the police were plowing their way through it toward the wrecked restaurant.