Part 33 (2/2)
She steadied herself with a hand on the table. ”Still I can follow her....”
”Yes--and must. That's what I've come to tell you and to help you do.”
”Where has she gone?”
”To her country place in Connecticut, on the Sound sh.o.r.e.”
”How can I get there? By railroad?” Eleanor started toward the telephone.
”Hold on!” he said sharply. ”What are you going to do?”
”Order a time-table--”
”Useless,” he commented curtly. ”Every terminal in the city is already watched by detectives. They'd spot you in a twinkling. Your only salvation is to get to Miss Landis before they catch you.”
In her excitement and confusion she could only stand and stare. A solitary thought dominated her consciousness, dwarfing and distorting all others: she was in danger of arrest, imprisonment, the shame and ignominy of public prosecution. Even though she were to be cleared of the charge, the stain of it would cling to her, an ineradicable blot.
And every avenue of escape was closed to her! Her lips trembled and her eyes brimmed, glistening. Despair lay cold in her heart.
She was so weary and distraught with the strain of nerves taut and vibrant with emotion, that she was by no means herself. She had no time for either thought or calm consideration; and even with plenty of time, she would have found herself unable to think clearly and calmly.
”What am I to do, then?” she whispered.
”Trust me,” the man replied quietly. ”There's just one way to reach this woman without risk of detection--and that's good only if we act _now_.
Get your things together; pay your bill; leave word to deliver your trunks to your order; and come with me. I have a motor-car waiting round the corner. In an hour we can be out of the city. By noon I can have you at Miss Landis' home.”
”Yes,” she cried, almost hysterical--”yes, that's the way!”
”Then do what packing you must. Here, I'll lend a hand.”
Fortunately, Eleanor had merely opened her trunks and bags, removing only such garments and toilet accessories as she had required for dinner and the theatre. These lay scattered about the room, easily to be gathered up and stuffed with careless haste into her trunks. In ten minutes the man was turning the keys in their various locks, while she stood waiting with a small handbag containing a few necessaries, a motor-coat over her arm, a thick veil draped from her hat.
”One minute,” the man said, straightening up from the last piece of luggage. ”You were telephoning when I came in?”
”Yes--to Mr. Staff, to explain why I failed to bring him the bandbox.”
”_Hmmm._” He pondered this, chin in hand. ”He'll be fretting. Does he know where you are?”
”No--I forgot to tell him.”
”That's good. Still, you'd better call him up again and put his mind at rest. It may gain us a few hours.”
”What am I to say?”
She lifted her hand to the receiver.
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