For some twenty minutes or so I watched her, undecided whether she were
actually the representative of the mysterious Nello, or whether she was
merely a shop-girl in the vicinity who expected to meet a friend.
Time after time, although she was ignorant of the constant observation I
kept upon her, I managed to get close sight of her, and after a time
began to doubt whether she really was a shop assistant. Her black coat
and skirt was of some cheap but effective material, and the boa about
her neck was of the type usually worn by the employees of Westbourne
Grove; yet once as she passed, my eyes caught a gleam beneath the sleeve
of her coat, and I saw that she wore, only half-concealed, one of those
curious New Zealand bracelets of pale green stone which are so shaped
upon the wrist that they can never be removed. Solid and circular, it
was a strange, almost barbarous-looking ornament and yet very striking,
for in one part was a small band of gold, wherein was set a single
diamond, the gleam of which had attracted my attention.
Now if she were a shop assistant, I argued, she could not sell ribbons
and laces with such an ornament upon her wrist. No employer would allow
such personal adornment. And as she could not remove it there was doubt
that she really was what she appeared to be.
It commenced to rain and she put up her umbrella. It was old, and in it
were several slits.
I was in half a mind to raise my hat, wish her good-evening, and inquire
if she were there in response to the advertisement addressed to Nello,
yet on reflection I saw that such a movement would be very indiscreet,
and that if she were really there as Nello's representative then I could
gain more by watching her. So, unnoticed, I stood within the station,
my back turned to her, and my head buried in an evening paper. To her I
was, I suppose, only an ordinary working-man, and if I had approached
her she would have at once snubbed me.
Fortunately I so constantly changed my position that she never gave me a
look, and was entirely unconscious of being watched. Greater part of
the time I stood apart some distance, on the opposite side of the street
at the corner of York Place.
From the eager way in which she watched every female approaching, I knew
that she was waiting for a woman.
At last she became convinced that her vigil was in vain. The rain had
ceased, she closed her umbrella and entered an omnibus which had pulled
up before the station, and an instant afterwards moved on towards the
Edgware Road.
It passed close to where I was standing on the kerb, and a few moments
afterwards I was in a hansom following it at a respectable distance, my
head again hidden in a newspaper. Down Edgware Road, past the Marble
Arch and along Park Lane we went to Victoria Station, where the
dark-eyed girl alighted, and entering the Chatham and Dover terminus
passed through the barrier with the return half of a first-class ticket.
Without reflection I went to the booking-office, obtained a third for
Loughborough Junction, a station through which most trains passed, and
five minutes later was seated in a compartment near her. If she had
really responded to my invitation, then it was my duty to discover her
destination and learn something concerning her.
For half an hour I sat in the train looking out at every stopping-place,
but seeing nothing of her.
At last, at a half-lit suburban station she descended and hurried out.
I followed quickly, handing the collector a two-shilling piece as excess
fare.