At last she put down the receiver and emerged from the box, with a strange look of despair upon her handsome countenance.
What, I wondered, had happened?
She halted outside the box for a moment, gazing about her as though in expectation of meeting someone. She saw me, but seeing only a labourer, took no heed of my presence. Then she glanced at the tiny gold watch in her bracelet, and noting that it was just upon nine, drew a long breath—a sigh as though of despair.
I waited until she slowly walked out towards the street, and following, came up beside her and said in a low voice:
"I wonder, madame, if you are looking for me?"
She glanced at me quickly, with distinct suspicion, and noting my dress, regarded me with some disdain.
Her dark brows were knit for a second in distinct displeasure, even of apprehension, and then in an instant I recollected my friend's injunction that I might be watched and followed. In giving her the message the greatest secrecy was to be observed.
She halted, as though in hesitation, took from her bag a tiny lace handkerchief and dabbed her face, then beneath her breath, and without glancing further at me, said:
"Follow me, and I will speak to you presently—when there is no danger."
Upon that I moved away and leisurely lit my pipe, as though entirely unconcerned, while she still stood in the doorway leading to the Haymarket, looking up and down as though awaiting somebody.