Just at the same instant some one leaned out of an open window as if to close a shutter, some one whose personality acted upon Roderic very much as might a shock of electricity.
Of course it was the girl from Porto Rico.
That she saw him and recognized him Roderic realized instantly.
It was another freak of Fate.
When the three sisters who weave our destinies with distaff and loom, conspire against a poor mortal, there is little use trying to dodge the snare, since the loop falls over one's shoulders on the most unexpected occasions, and usually without warning.
Roderic yielded, rescue or no rescue, at once.
He immediately arose from his place and made down the winding stairs at the end of the car. The vehicle had been progressing meanwhile as rapidly as two sturdy Irish horses could draw it along the rails, and by the time the gentleman from across the Atlantic reached terra firma they were half a block away from the bungalow and its stone posts.
Roderic had not developed any plan of action—what he did was from sheer impulse.
The sight of her face had spurred him on—nor might this be set down as the only instance where a woman's lovely countenance caused unpremeditated action on the part of a usually conservative and well balanced man.
When he reached the distinguishing stone pillars upon which he read the name of the villa, Roderic boldly turned in.