He stopped. He had discovered that she was not listening to him. She was sitting absolutely still, her head a little turned. Her lips were slightly parted, and her eyes, wide and staring, were fixed on some one across the room. Laurie's eyes followed hers. They focused on a man sitting alone at a little table. It was clear that he had just entered, for a waiter stood by his side, and the new-comer was giving judicious attention to the bill of fare. He was a harmless-looking person, of medium height and rather more than medium stoutness, carelessly dressed in a blue-serge suit. His indifference to dress was further betrayed by the fact that his ready-made black four-in-hand tie had slipped the mooring of a white bone stud, leaving that useful adjunct of the toilet open to the eyes of the world. His face was round, smooth-shaven, and rather pale. He had dark brown hair, surprisingly sleek, and projecting, slightly veiled gray eyes, which blinked near-sightedly at the menu. Altogether he was a seemingly worthy person, to whom the casual observer would hardly have given a second glance. While the two pairs of eyes across the room stared at him, he confided his order to the waiter. It seemed a brief order, for the brow of the latter clouded as he wrote it down and detachedly strolled off. The new-comer leaned back in his chair, and, as he did so, glanced around the room. His projecting eyes, moving indifferently from table to table, suddenly rested, fixed, on the girl. They showed interest but no surprise. He bowed with a half-smile--an odd smile, bland, tolerant, and understanding. Then, disregarding her lack of response, he fixed his eyes on the wall facing him and waited patiently for his luncheon to be served. Laurie's attention returned to the girl. She was facing him again, but her eyes looked past him as if he were not there. "He has found me, even here," she muttered. "Of course he would. He always does." Laurie looked at her. "Do you mean," he asked crisply, "that that chap across the room is following you around?" She looked at him, as if abruptly recalled to the fact of his presence. Her eyes dropped. "Yes," she muttered, dully. "I may escape him for a time, but he always learns where I am. He will catch me when he chooses, and roll me about under his paws for a while, and then--perhaps--let me go again." "That sounds like a certain phase of domestic life," commented Laurie. "Is he by any chance your husband?" Her eyes held a rising anger. "He is not," she said. "I am not married." Laurie dropped his dead cigarette into the ash tray, and rose with a sigh. "It's all very confusing," he admitted, "and a digression from the main issue. But I'm afraid I shall have to go to the exertion of reasoning with him." She started up, but before she could protest or restrain him, he had left her and crossed the room to the stranger's table. CHAPTER V MR. HERBERT RANSOME SHAW