Then, in another instant,
before I had any idea what she meant to do, she was out of the cab,
running like a child in the direction whence we had come. I looked after
her, hesitating whether or not to follow (for I could not bear to risk
meeting Ivor), and saw that she paused at the corner. She was peeping
into the Rue d'Hollande, to find out what was happening there.
"She will come back in a moment or two," I said to myself wearily, and
sat waiting. For a little while she stood with her long dress gathered
up under her cloak: then she darted round the corner and vanished. If
she had not appeared again almost at once, I should have had to tell the
driver to follow, though I hated the thought of going again into the
street where Maxine de Renzie lived. But she did come, and in her hand
was a pretty little brocade bag embroidered with gold or silver that
sparkled even in the faint light.
"I saw this lying in the street, and ran to pick it up," she exclaimed.
"You might better have left it," I said stiffly. "Perhaps Mademoiselle
de Renzie dropped it."
"No, I don't think so. It wasn't in front of her house."
"It may belong to that man who was watching, then.
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