He lifted his shaking hand and touched with one finger that glittering cross upon her bosom.
“There is but one cross like that in the world,” he muttered. “Girl, girl, where did you get it?” he demanded, hoarsely.
Before she could collect her scattered senses to reply the crowd surged in between them; the old man was borne one way, Brownie and her companion the other, and she only caught one more glimpse of a pair of deep, fathomless eyes, filled with keenest pain, a white, set face, its lips livid and rigid.
Then she found herself in the fresh, cool air, and Adrian Dredmond saying, in tones of apology:
“You will excuse him, Miss Douglas; he is an old man.”
“Certainly; but he startled me somewhat,” she answered, drawing a deep breath; and before she could ask if he knew who the strange gentleman was, she found they were beside the Coolidge carriage.
“Really, Miss Douglas, is it you at last? You have kept us waiting until we are tired,” exclaimed Isabel, peevishly.
“I hope you have not been troubled, Mr. Dredmond,” apologized Mrs. Coolidge, graciously, and giving Brownie a withering look.
“Oh, no; it has given me pleasure to attend Miss Douglas,” blundered the young man, saying the very worst thing possible.
“I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Mrs. Coolidge, but the crowd detained us, and my cloak caught upon one of the seats,” explained Brownie.