He turned slowly round. He was inclined to be a good-natured person, and he had no nervous fears of receiving a snub. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady.
“She cannot be aware,” he continued, “that she is making herself conspicuous. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. I trust that she will not misunderstand me. I believe—I believe that I must risk it.”
He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. Can I be of any assistance? I can assure you that it would give me very much pleasure.”
Her first upward glance was one of terrified apprehension. When she saw however that this man was a stranger, and obviously harmless, her expression changed as though by magic. A delicate flush of colour streamed into her cheeks. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. Her natural instincts reasserted themselves. She began to act.
“You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?”
“I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. “You remind me of the story which they tell against us over here, you know—of the Englishman who refused to be saved from drowning because he was unacquainted with his rescuer. Permit me to introduce myself. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall.”
There was genuine interest in her eyes now. Sir John saw it, and was flattered.
“You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. “Yes, I remember you now. You were pointed out to me at—a few nights ago.”
He was not in the least surprised. A millionaire and a knight, even though his money has been made in carpets, is used to being a person of interest.