room and devoted herself to a careful study of the menu. It was not till she had selected her dishes and quizzed the appearance of the other customers that she developed her plan of attack.
“You don’t seem at all interested in the fact that I have something to say to you,” she began, leaning back and scanning him critically. Her voluptuous style of beauty had never had any attraction for him; to-day it positively repelled.
“My worst enemies have never accused me of being curious,” he answered lightly. “Nay, I am not discourteous,” he protested, seeing the angry gleam in the fine eyes. “I only mean that I cannot work myself into a fever about a communication the subject of which I am ignorant of.”
“Tell me,” she said abruptly, “what reason you had for following me from St. Pancras to Bond Street this morning?”
Whatever her motive she was pushing him hard, and Forsyth’s presence of mind failed him. He flushed and began to stammer.
“It is useless to deny it,” she cut him short. “I saw you in the cab quite plainly as I entered the shop, and my cabby had previously
[252]
