“But I must not linger here and keep the bride waiting,” he ran down the stairs.
Nick turned away, his mind busy with recollections of London. The face of the young man, Ellison, was familiar to him.
It was one of Nick’s characteristics that he never forgot a face that he had once regarded earnestly. In fact, his memory in this respect was actually an embarrassment to him, for in his travels in many parts of the world he had met faces that had attracted him, or, under circumstances, had impressed them on his mind which were by no means associated with his business. Something of this he expressed in the words he muttered to himself:
“This habit of suspicion is all very well, but I am letting it run away with me. Because I have seen this young fellow’s face before is no reason why I should suspect him of anything.”
He walked off toward the room over which Ida was on guard.
In the meantime, Ellison had descended the stairs, and, at the foot of it was met by a servant, who stopped him, speaking in a low tone of voice.
This was observed by Patsy, who, standing near the doorman, asked what servant it was, since he had not seen him before.
The reply was that it was Mr. Ellison’s own servant, his valet.
Whatever was communicated by this servant to the young man, at least it gave no little concern to him.