He had his coat-collar turned well up about his ears, his soft felt hat drawn forward over his brow, and with his handkerchief held to his face his crafty countenance was for the most part concealed.
Presently he glided across the street, then hurriedly bolted into the corridor of one of the buildings—that in which the rooms of the fortune-teller and long-time adventuress were located.
Quickly mounting the stairs, Hyde unceremoniously entered her rooms.
He found Vic Clayton, by which name he best knew her, seated alone in the reception-parlor, the maid employed there having just gone out to lunch.
“Why, hello, Sandy!” she cried, starting up from her chair when he entered.
When he eagerly advanced to clasp both her hands, moreover, she drew him into her arms and kissed him, as only lovers kiss.
“Break away!” he quickly protested, however.
“Well, well, what’s this?”
“As much as I like it, Vic, there’s no time for that.”
The woman’s eyes took on a startled look.