Page:Arthur Stringer--The House of Intrigue.djvu/189

Rh "Hello, Cinderella!" I heard a man's voice call out, as the door of this car swung open. I still stood there on one foot, like a wet crane, staring in at the shadowy figure. But I did not speak.

"Are you going far?" the same voice asked me. It was plainly a polite question, politely put. But this time it was not the question, but something in the timbre of the voice itself, that caused me to lean forward and stare in over the running-board so close to my bedraggled coat of Hudson seal. For it was my Hero-Man himself who had spoken to me.

I continued to stare at him, a little relieved and at the same time a little puzzled.

"I don't know yet," I told him, with a curt laugh. "But I'm on my way." And I noticed, for the first time, that he was holding a rather soggy-looking suede shoe in his hand.

"Then you'll surely let me give you a lift," he said, as cool as a cucumber.

I heard footsteps behind me, and that decided the thing. I gathered up my box coat tails and the over-full black skirts, and climbed into the car. He closed the door as the car started forward.

"You don't remember me, perhaps?" he said.