"When I visit my friend, we
don't always care to be disturbed-----"
"Ha! Your friend--Miss Bonnicastle--was _not_ there! I have seen
her in Oxford Street! She said no one was there this morning, but I
doubted--I came!"
Whilst speaking, he kept a look turned in the direction of the house
from which Olga had come. And of a sudden his eyes lit with fierce
emotion.
"See! Something told me! _That_ is your friend!"
Piers Otway had come out. Olga could not have recognised him at this
distance, but she knew the Italian's eyes would not be deceived.
Instantly she took to flight, along a cross-street leading eastward.
Florio kept at her side, and neither spoke until breathlessness
stopped her as she entered Fitzroy Square.
"You are safe," said her pursuer, or companion. "He is gone the
other way. Ah! you are pale! You are suffering! Why did you run--
run--run? There was no need."
His voice had turned soothing, caressing; his eyes melted in
compassion as they bent upon her.
"I have given you no right to hunt me like this," said Olga,
panting, timid, her look raised for a moment to his.
"I take the right," he laughed musically. "It is the right of the
man who loves you."
She cast a frightened glance about the square, which was almost
deserted, and began to walk slowly on.
"Why was the door shut with the key?" asked Florio, his head near to
hers. "I thought I would break it open And I wish I had done so," he
added, suddenly fierce again.
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