He was silent--looking as if he would have spoken, but could not. She went on:
"I thank you for the pleasure you have given me--the unexpected pleasure. It is a favourite piece of mine which you have just performed--I say 'performed' advisedly. I never heard it better played by any one--never! and I never shall. You are a great musician. I?--I am a poor teacher of the rudiments of the art in which you are such an adept. I am obliged by your suggestion that I should give you lessons. I regret that to do so is out of my power. You already play a thousand times better than I ever shall--I was just going out as you came in. I must ask you to be so good as to permit me to go now."
He rose from the music stool--towering above her higher and higher. From his altitude he looked down at her for some seconds in silence. Then, in his deep bass voice, he began, as it seemed, to excuse himself.
"Believe me----"
She cut him short.
"I believe nothing--and wish to believe nothing. You had reasons of your own for coming here; what they were I do not know, nor do I seek to know. All I desire is that you should take yourself away."
He stooped to pick up his hat. Rising with it in his hand, he glanced towards the window. As he did so, the man who had leaned over the palings came strolling by again. The sight of this man filled him with his former uneasiness. He retreated further back into the room--all but stumbling over Miss Brodie in his haste. In a person of his physique the agitation he displayed was pitiful. It suggested a degree of cowardice which nothing in his appearance seemed to warrant.
"I--I beg your pardon--but might I ask you a favour?"
"A favour? What is it?"
"I will be frank with you. I am being watched by a person whose scrutiny I wish to avoid. Because I wished to escape him was one reason why I came in here."