He stood quite still, and seemed to be looking me through and through. Then he drew a small time-table from his pocket.
“Annesly Junction, 3.30; St. Pancras, 7.50,” he muttered to himself. “Thank you; good morning.”
He turned upon his heel, but I called him back.
“Mr. Deville.”
He stopped short and looked round. “I beg your pardon,” he said; “I am in a hurry.”
“Oh, very well,” I answered. “I should be sorry to detain you. You dropped something when you took out your time-table, and it occurred to me that you might want it again. That is all.”
He came back with three great strides. A square envelope, to which I was pointing, lay on the ground almost at my feet. As he stooped to pick it up I too glanced at it for the second time. A little exclamation escaped from my lips. He looked at me inquiringly.
“Is anything the matter?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Good morning Mr. Deville.”