"What?" said Barnaby. He looked like a man whose wits were staggering under a mortal blow. Then his mouth set hard, in a fighting line.
"Bond Street," he called up the trap to the driver, and the hansom dashed jingling on. Kilgour was left marvelling on the kerb.
"By Jove!" he said to himself, proceeding to cool his perturbation in the peaceable atmosphere of his club, and stoutly refusing, though troubled in mind, to draw the inevitable conclusion.
CHAPTER XIII
Susan hardly knew how she reached the dreary place that was her refuge. Meeting Rackham had shaken her. An unaccountable restlessness took possession of her as she thought of him; she felt him pursuing her; she had an impulse to run and run until she was hidden from the penetrating intentness of his regard. In the shop whither she had fled she had tried to argue with herself, but it had been useless. The relief with which she had found herself for the moment free from him taught her too much.
She had glanced desperately backwards. He was not walking on with Kilgour.... What did she want; what excuse had she for staying till he was gone? She must buy something. Clothes for travelling;—was she not going to America?—and she had nothing, not even a handkerchief.
The suggestion steadied her. How soon could she sail? She must find out at once; must engage her passage.—They had nothing but hats in here, but an assistant directed her to another shop upstairs.
Recklessly,—since the prices here were extravagant prices for one who had only a handful of sovereigns between her and want,—she made purchases. It seemed to quiet her silly agitation, to restore to her something of her despairing calm.
But when she issued into the street again panic ruled her. She could not breathe freely until she was far from this dangerous neighbourhood, until at last she was shut inside the gloomy house in a side street, that barred out imaginary pursuers with the massive security of its blistered door.