Slowly his gaze circled the room and came round to her. His eyes were hard as diamonds and as flashing, so that the impact of their meeting looks seemed to shock her physically. He was a tall man, swarthy of hue, and he carried himself with a light ease that looked silken strong. Something in the bearing was familiar yet not quite familiar either. It seemed to suggest a resemblance to somebody she knew. And in the next thought she knew that the somebody was Ned Bannister.
The man spoke to Fraser, just then passing with a cup of coffee, and Helen saw the two men approach. The stranger was coming to be formally introduced.
“Shake hands with Mr. Holloway, Miss Messiter. He’s from up in the hill country and he rode to our frolic. Y’u’ve got three guesses to figure out what he’s made up as.”
“One will be quite enough, I think,” she answered coldly.
Fraser departed on his destination with the coffee and the newcomer sat down on the bench beside her.
“One’s enough, is it?” he drawled smilingly.
“Quite, but I’m surprised so few came in costume. Why didn’t you? But I suppose you had your reasons.”
“Didn’t I? I’m supposed to be a bad man from the hills.”
She swept him casually with an indifferent glance. “And isn’t that what you are in real life?”
His sharp scrutiny chiseled into her. “What’s that?”