Then the man shot away into the darkness, leaving the wayfarers mystified by his words and action.
"Wot am I to do, sir?" inquired Hobbs. "Most hextraordinary orders, and who the deuce is behind them, that's wot I'd like to know."
"We'll wait here, Hobbs," said Robin, and then put his hand suddenly to his heart. It was acting very queerly. For a moment he thought it was in danger of pounding its way out of his body!
Below him lay the lighted city, a great yellow cloud almost at his feet. Nearer, on the mountain-side were the misty lights in the windows of dwellers on the slope, and at points far apart the street lamps, dim splashes of light in the gloom. Far above were the almost obscured lights of St. Valentine, hanging in the sky. He thought of the monks up there. What a life! He would not be a monk, not he.
"My word!" exclaimed Hobbs, but instantly resumed his character as cabby.
A woman came swiftly out of the blackness and stopped beside the cab. She was swathed in a long gossamer, and hooded. The carriage lamps gleamed strong against the dripping coat.
"Is it you?" cried Robin, throwing open the door and leaping to the ground.
"It is I, M'sieur," said the voice of Marie, Miss Guile's French maid.
Bleak disappointment filled his soul. He had hoped for—but no! He might have known. She would not meet him in this manner.
"What has happened?" he cried, grasping the girl's arm. "Has she—"