mind that I shouldn't know what was in the papers. You're very considerate, Mr. Ferguson."
I glanced round, startled. Her outspoken mention of my name took me aback. No doubt all the world was talking of John Furguson; looking for him; wondering where he was. I did not want that crowd to learn that he was in its midst. My appearance of discomfiture she seemed to find amusing.
"Might I ask you just one question?"
"You are too hard on me; you may ask a thousand."
"Did you propose to take me all the way to Ostend without giving me anything to eat? Perhaps you're not aware that four o'clock is the actor's dinner-hour. I've not had a morsel of food all day."
"Miss Moore!"
Mine was the blunder then; I could have bitten my tongue off for uttering the name. A man behind turned towards us as if he had been struck by it—or I thought so. Had he known it, he was never so near having his head twisted off his shoulders. Had he allowed a sign of recognition to have escaped him, there would have been murder done. But he was a mild-looking, grey-haired person, and the sight of the expression with which I regarded him seemed to fill him
