"I see him take it," announced the old gentleman in the corner. "Put it in his pocket, I believe he did."
Bruce Palliser, standing in the roadway, tried to induce the young lady to give him a chance to establish his innocence.
"If you will permit me to explain who I am, I will make it quite clear to you--"
She cut him short.
"Have the kindness not to address me."
She climbed into a passing hansom. He had to spring to one side to avoid being cut down by a furniture van. By the time the van had gone the cab had gone also.
Later in the day he rushed into the station with just time enough to enable him to catch the train which was to take him home. He had already entered a compartment before he realised that a seat near the door was occupied by the young lady of the omnibus. The recognition was obviously mutual. Something in her attitude made him conscious of a ridiculous sense of discomfort. He felt that if he did not leave the carriage she would--although the train was about to start. Scrambling back on to the platform he was hustled into another compartment by an expostulating guard. When the train stopped at Market Hinton, and he got out, he observed that the young lady of the omnibus was emerging from the compartment from which he had retreated with so small a show of dignity. Apparently she also had reached her journey's end. He thought he knew most of the people who lived thereabouts, at least by sight. He had certainly never seen her before. Who could she be?
Stupidly enough he hung about the station, allowing himself to be buttonholed by an old countryman who was full of his sufferings from rheumatism--one of that large tribe with which every doctor is familiar, the members of which never lose a chance of obtaining medical advice for nothing. He was not in the best of tempers by the time that he reached home. Nor was his temper improved by the greeting which he received from Jack Griffiths, who had acted as his locum during his enforced absence in London.
"You're not looking any better for your change," declared Jack, who had an unfortunate--and exasperating--knack of seeing the pessimistic side of things. "You're looking all mops and brooms."
"I'm not feeling all mops and brooms--whatever state of feeling that may be. On the contrary, I'm feeling as fit as I ever felt in the whole of my life."