“Do you know that man?” asked my companion suddenly.
“No. Why?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I fancy I’ve seen him somewhere or other before. He looked like a Russian.”
That was just my own thought at that moment, and I wondered if Oleg, who was lurking near, had noticed him.
“Yes,” I said. “But I don’t recollect ever having seen him before. I wonder who he is? Let’s turn back.”
We did so, but though we hastened our steps, we did not find him. He had, it seemed, already left the pier. Apparently he believed that he had been recognised.
Once again we repassed Drury and his friend just as the theatre disgorged its crowd of homeward-bound pleasure-seekers.
We were walking in the same direction, Oleg following at a respectable distance, and I was enabled to obtain a good look at him, for, as though in wonder as to whom I could be, he turned several times to eye me, with some little indignation, I thought.
I judged him to be about twenty-five, over six feet in height, athletic and wiry, with handsome, clear-cut, clean-shaven features and a pair of sharp, dark, alert eyes, which told of an active outdoor life. His face was a refined one, his gait easy and swinging, and both in dress and manner he betrayed the gentleman.
Truth to tell, though I did not admit it to Natalia, I became very favourably impressed by him. By his exterior he seemed to be a well-set-up, sportsmanlike young fellow, who might, perhaps, belong to one of the Sussex county families.