Slowly, slowly the coach drew near our ambush. I recognized Colas as the coachman pro tem; I knew the horses and the family coach; saw the Johnson arms emblazoned on the panels as I rose from the roadside weeds.
"Colas!" I said quietly.
The negro pulled in his horses and sat staring at me, astounded.
I walked leisurely past the horses to the window of the coach. And there, seated, I saw Polly Johnson and Claudia Swift.
There ensued a terrible silence and they gazed upon me as though they were looking upon a dead man.
"Jack Drogue!" whispered Claudia, "how—how come you here?"
I bowed, my cap in my hand, but could not utter a word.
"Jack! Jack, are—are you alone?" faltered Lady Johnson. "Good heavens, what does this mean, I beg of you?——"
"Where are your people, Polly?" I asked in a dead voice.
"My—my people? Do you mean my husband?"