Suddenly, out of the twilight, Falloden became aware of a pony-carriage descending the hill, and two ladies in it. His blood leapt. He recognised Constance Bledlow, and he supposed the other lady was Mrs. Mulholland.
Constance on her side knew in a moment from the bearing of his head and shoulders who was the tall man approaching them. She spoke hurriedly to Mrs. Mulholland.
‘Do you mind if I stop and speak to Mr. Falloden?’
Mrs. Mulholland shrugged her shoulders—
‘Do as you like, my dear. Only don’t expect me to be very forthcoming!’
Constance stopped the carriage, and bent forward.
‘Mr. Falloden!’
He came up to her. Connie introduced him to Mrs. Mulholland, who bowed coldly.
‘We have just been to see Otto Radowitz,’ said Constance. ‘We found him—very sadly, to-day.’ Her hesitating voice, with the note of wistful appeal in it, affected him strangely.
‘Yes, it has been a bad day. I haven’t seen him at all.’