Call him!" Tom, evidently recalled from his brief furlough by the proprietor on account of the press of custom, had just made his appearance from the kitchen.
"Tom, where's Tournelli ?" asked the Lawyer hurriedly, but following the retreating woman with his eyes.
"Skipped, they say.

Somebody insulted him," said Tom curtly.
"You didn't see him hanging round outside, eh?
Swearing vengeance ?" asked the Editor.
"No," said Tom scornfully.
The woman had reached the door, and darted out of it as her escort paused a moment at the counter to throw down a coin.

Yet in that moment she had hurried before him through the passage into the street.

I turned breathlessly to the window.

For an instant her face, white as a phantom's, appeared pressed rigidly against the heavy plate-glass, her eyes staring with a horrible fascination back into the room--I even imagined at us.