"She won’t be here for an hour," said one of them.
"Shouldn’t wonder if she went home in Rosalind’s dress," said the other, with another hiccup.
"She’ll ’it you, ’Arry, if you speak to her."
"Let her. I’d rather like it, ’pon my soul."
The stage-door was continually being swung to and fro by some one passing in or out, but as yet there was no sign of Annie Brunel. At length, however, some of the people who had been engaged in the play came out, and Will knew that she would soon follow.
"Was she likely to be alone? Would they dare to speak to her?" He glanced down at the sling which supported his right arm. Deprive an Englishman of the use of his right arm, and he feels himself utterly helpless. There was one happy thought, however: even if she were alone she would be closely veiled; and how were these half-tipsy cads to recognise her?
She came out; she was alone, and veiled, but Will knew the graceful figure, and the carriage of the queenly head.
By some demoniac inspiration the two men seemed also to take it for granted that the veiled face was that of Annie Brunel. The less tipsy of the two went forward, overtook her as she was going down the lane, and said to her—
She turned her head, and in the gaslight Anerley saw that there was a quick, frightened look of interrogation in her eyes. She turned away again, and had hurried on almost to the open street, when the man caught her arm with his hand.
"Not so fast, my dear. Won’t you look at my card——"
"Out of the way, idiot!" was the next thing she heard, in a voice that made her heart beat; and in a moment the man had been sent reeling against the opposite wall.
That was the work of an instant. Inflamed with rage and fury, he recovered himself, and was about to aim a blow at his assailant’s face, when Anerley’s left arm so successfully did duty without the aid of the wounded right one, that the man went down like a log, and lay there. His companion, stupefied, neither stirred nor spoke.
"Get into the cab, Miss Brunel," said Will, abruptly.
He accompanied her across the pavement: an utter stranger could not have been more calm and cold. For a second she looked into his face, with pain, and wonder, and entreaty in her eyes; and then she took his hand, which had been outstretched to bid her good-bye, and said—