Glynn was almost beside himself with hope, dread, and nervous tension.
Another Islington omnibus drove past and stopped. The two ladies darted to it, exchanged a hasty hand pressure, and then the shorter of the two mounted swiftly, and vanished into the interior.
"Good-night!" cried Glynn, abruptly; "the humble 'bus will suit me admirably."
Before his astonished companion could reply he was beside the vehicle, which was still standing, as a stout and irritable elderly gentleman was painfully disentangling himself from among the tightly-packed passengers.
"If you had only let me out first," he exclaimed angrily as he alighted.
"Trouble you for threepence," interrupted the conductor.
"Threepence! why, I only got in at Leather Lane."
"All right!—Islington!"
Another instant and Glynn occupied the stout man's place—nearer the door, but on the opposite side to the lady he was following—and they were rolling rapidly westward.
At first he would not let himself seem to see her, and by the light of the omnibus lamp he could hardly make out her features, so thick was the lace which concealed them. Suddenly he saw her start and draw her cloak closer together with a nervous movement. Had she recognized him?