Russell burned like a beacon, but Capes illuminated by darting flashes and threw light, even if it was but momentary light, into a hundred corners that Russell left steadfastly in the shade. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. What he needed most in this hour was a bottle of American rye-whisky and a friendly American bar-keep to talk to. Impassive by nature and training, he was conscious to-night of a strange sense of excitement, of exhilaration tempered by a dull background of disappointment.
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