He never failed to meet my eye when it rested on him; he seemed to
know intuitively when I watched him, and he always looked back and
laughed. If any one was with him, as was generally the case--smart
ladies and men of his own stamp, with all of whom he seemed on very
familiar terms--he invariably drew their attention to me, and they,
too, laughed aloud after a prolonged stare. It was a little
embarrassing; he had so evidently disclosed my business, in scornful
terms no doubt, and held me up to ridicule, describing in his own way
and much to my discredit all that had happened between us. Once he had
the effrontery to accost me as I stood facing the green board on which
the telegrams are exposed.
"Where have we met?" he began, with a mocking laugh. "I seem to know
your face. Ah, of course, my old friend Falfani, the private detective
who appeared in the Blackadder case. And I think I have come across
you more recently."
"I beg you will not address yourself to me. I don't know you, I don't
wish to know you," I replied, with all the dignity I could assume. "I
decline to hold any conversation with you," and I moved away.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191