Page:The little blue devil (IA littlebluedevil00mackiala).pdf/304

For one sickening instant Tony had felt as if the very blood in his veins had stopped running. Pamela! Pamela there—why, she ought to have been in England long ago—and she must think him dead. He set his teeth on the resolve not to let her know who he was; surely it would not be so hard after all, since she must have heard the reports of his death. But in the first glance he had seen that she looked worn and ill; he was horribly troubled about her. He looked at her, coldly enquiring.

“Yes?” he said. “You are mistaking me for someone you know, I think.”

For a second she doubted her own eyes, but as he moved to go on she clutched his coat-sleeve in an agony, crying, “No, oh, no! You are Tony. See! It’s Pamela. I’ve been ill, that’s why you didn’t know me, but look at me!”

Her anxiety affected him strangely. It was not like Pamela to be so openly eager to claim a friend—at least, the Pamela he remembered would have shown her eagerness in a different way. And there were dark marks under her clear blue eyes; she had a lost, forlorn look somehow. That was nonsense; of course, she must be with some of her relations, only he could not understand. He drew away from her and spoke as to an importunate stranger. “It really is a mistake—that is not my name. I assure you don’t know you.”

Again he moved, trying to continue his walk. It seemed to Pamela as if this were a nightmare such as no one had ever dreamed. What was she to do to convince him? Why was he so blind?

Her hand had been on his sleeve. Now she dropped it he felt himself wince inwardly, and cursed his folly in not being glad, for surely it was a proof that she was beginning to believe him a stranger He couldn’t keep the game up much longer, anyhow, and—ah! she was speaking again.

“Look at me closely,” she pleaded, her eyes wide and