Some thought seemed to have struck him suddenly. He paused in his walk as well as in his speech.
“I dare say it was nothing,” he added, going on again. “Be at ease as to Bevere, Ludlow. I should as soon think of applying to him a lighted firebrand.”
“But what is it you call odd?” I asked, feeling sure that, whatever it might be, it was connected with Bevere.
“Why, this,” said Scott. “Last night, when we got here, I left my umbrella in the carriage, having a lot of other things to see to of my own and the governor’s. I went back as soon as I found it out, but could hear nothing of it. Just now I went up again and got it”—slightly showing the green silk one he held in his hand. “A train from London came in while I stood there, bringing a heap of passengers. One of them looked like Lizzie.”
I could not speak from consternation.
“Having nothing to do while waiting for my umbrella to be brought, I was watching the crowd flock out of the station,” continued Scott. “Amidst it I saw a head of red-gold hair, just like Lizzie’s. I could not see more of her than that; some other young woman’s head was close to hers.”
“But do you think it was Lizzie?”
“No, I do not. So little did I think it that it went clean out of my mind until you spoke. It must have been some accidental resemblance; nothing more; red-gold hair is not so very uncommon. There’s nothing to bring her down to Brighton.”
“Unless she knows that he is here.”