He felt gratified at the importance of his news, as shown by its effect on her. Her lips paled as they parted. The pansy-black irises widened within the blue of her eyes in her concentrated stare. Lines lengthened her face more suitably to the poke of the bonnet that framed it.
“Who—who?” she demanded, her voice scarcely more than a rasp.
“That I didn’t linger to learn. I saw them as I was polkaing past upon my trusty steed just now. Thought you mightn’t know.”
She turned her head and spoke as if to some one within the room.
“Oh, what shall we do? If they’ve solved the cryptogram—if they find——”
She checked other disclosures; again faced the volunteer messenger, now frowning.
When no suggestion as to what they could do came from the person who would seem to be the other half of her “we,” Pape made cheerful offering: “The taxi-hack that conveyed me cross-town is ticking time down in the street. It is at your service, miss or madam, with or without yours truly.”
She gave him a startled glance, whether for his mode of address or his offer, he could not be sure; then spent a moment in urgent thought.
“Would you wait for me a few minutes?” She all at once announced her decision.
Without need of his answer, without a verbal thank-you or suggestion of apology, she closed the door in his face and, by way of insult to injury, turned the key inside.