Part 6 (1/2)

”G.o.d, I presume,” observed the hara.s.sed conductor, turning away with the realisation that he had erred in coming to her in the first place.

The porter returned at that moment.

”n.o.body in that section, ma'am. It was sold, but the party didn't show up.”

”Good Heavens, you--but he DID show up. I--I know he did. Look again.

Try--but wait! Ask for Mr. Dauntless. Ask quietly, please.”

”Yes, ma'am.”

Her nerves at highest tension, Miss Thursdale made her way toward the rear platform of the train. She pa.s.sed down the curtained aisles of two coaches, wondering how people could sleep so soundly in a crisis like this. A porter politely opened a door and she slipped out upon the last platform. As far as the eye could reach stretched the roadbed and its telegraph poles, finally disappearing in the haze of the morning.

Wide-spread flood, soaking the flat--

A sharp cry of amazement came from the track just below her. She looked down and into the eyes of Anne Courtenay, the governess. For a full minute they stared blankly at each other, apparently bereft of all the agencies that fall to the lot of woman.

”Miss Courtenay!” finally came from the lips of the girl on the platform.

”Miss Thursdale!” murmured Anne, reaching out to support herself against the b.u.mper. Other words failed to come for the time being. In sheer despair, neither could accomplish more than a pallid smile. To the reader is left the privilege of a.n.a.lysing the thoughts which surged through the brains of the bewildered young women,--the fears, the doubts, the resentments.

”Where--where have you been?” at last fell from Miss Thursdale's lips.

”Been?” repeated Miss Courtenay, vaguely. ”Oh, yes; I've been taking a walk--a const.i.tutional. I always do.”

Eleanor stared harder than ever. ”All this distance?” she murmured.

”Down the track for half a mile, Miss Thursdale.”

”Are--were you on this train?” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Eleanor.

”Yes--but I--I---” stammered Anne, her face growing red with rising resentment. ”I did not think this of you.”

”What do you mean? It is--May I ask why you are here, Miss Courtenay?

It is most extraordinary.”

”It is very easily explained,” said Miss Courtenay, after a moment's battle with veracity. ”My aunt is very ill in Vancouver.” To herself she was saying: ”I must keep her from really seeing Harry. She knows what he has done--in heaven's name, how could she have found it out?--and she is waiting to catch us if she can. She has followed us!

Thank goodness, I've seen her first.”

Eleanor was not blessed with the possibility of such an explanation for Anne's presence; she could only believe that the governess had been suddenly called to the bedside of her aunt--a real person, she happened to know, and very rich. But how was she to account for her own astonis.h.i.+ng departure from home? Miss Courtenay had seen her at dinner; nothing had been said regarding ”an unexpected journey.” In truth, Eleanor remembered with inflexible accuracy that she had announced her intention to go to bed with a headache. Then, what must Miss Courtenay be thinking at this very instant?

An inspiration came to her like a flash. ”I--I am running away, Miss Courtenay,” she cried, with a brave attempt to appear naive.

”I don't understand,” murmured poor Anne.

”Of course you don't,” said Eleanor, inspiration heaping itself up within her. ”Not really, you know, but just for a few days' rest.

Mother thinks I'm looking wretchedly. We didn't say anything about it--except to Mr. Windoms.h.i.+re, of course. He knows. Perhaps he will run up to Omegon in a day or two to see me. It's very quiet there, and I'll get a good rest. The hotel is delightful--facing the lake. And the bathing's good. Dear me, I'm so sorry about your aunt.” Miss Courtenay's eyes actually blinked with perplexity. This was a most staggering bit of news. Eleanor flushed painfully under the gaze of the other; utter rout followed. She stammered some flimsy excuse and dashed back into the car. To herself she was crying: ”I must find Joe and tell him to keep out of sight. Oh, how awful this is!”

Just inside the door she met her porter.

”There's n.o.body named Dauntless on the train, miss. A gentleman who said he was his friend thinks he missed the train perhaps.”