And Zillah
immediately dragged Lauriston after him, keeping a few yards' distance,
but going persistently forward. The man in front crossed the road, and
strode towards the portico of the hotel--and Zillah suddenly made up her
mind.
"We've got to speak to that man!" she said. "Don't ask why, now--you'll
know in a few minutes. Ask him if he'll speak to me?"
Lauriston caught up the stranger as he set foot on the steps leading to
the hotel door. He felt uncomfortable and foolish--but Zillah's tone left
him no option but to obey.
"I beg your pardon," said Lauriston, as politely as possible, "but--this
lady is very anxious to speak to you."
The man turned, glanced at Zillah, who had hurried up, and lifted his
slouched hat with a touch of old-fashioned courtesy. There was a strong
light burning just above them: in its glare all three looked at each
other. The stranger smiled--a little wonderingly.
"Why, sure!" he said in accents that left no doubt of his American origin.
"I'd be most happy. You're not mistaking me for somebody else?"
Zillah was already flushed with embarrassment. Now that she had run her
quarry to earth, and so easily, she scarcely knew what to do with it.
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