That was true. It was equally true that they were calling her Mrs. Mowbray. My ears had been as quick as Tod’s, and I don’t deny I was puzzled. They turned to come up the pier again with the people, and the lady saw me standing there with Tod. Saw me looking at her, too, and I think she did not relish it, for she took a step backward as one startled, and then stared me full in the face, as if asking who I might be. I lifted my hat.
There was no response. In another moment she and her husband were walking quickly down the pier together, and the other party went on to the end quietly. A man in a tweed suit and brown hat drawn low over his eyes, was standing with his arms folded, looking after the two with a queer smile upon his face. Tod marked it and spoke.
“Do you happen to know that gentleman?”
“Yes, I do,” was the answer.
“Is he a peer?”
“On occasion.”
“On occasion!” repeated Tod. “I have a reason for asking,” he added; “do not think me impertinent.”
“Been swindled out of anything?” asked the man, coolly.
“My father was, some months ago. He lost a pocket-book with fifty pounds in it in a railway carriage. Those people were both in it, but not then acquainted with each other.”
“Oh, weren’t they!” said the man.