Part 22 (2/2)

But there was no sign of an accident, and her mother was not there when she alighted--the only pa.s.senger to get off.

Wickford Junction was hardly more than a flag station, and there was an agent there only part of the time. He was not there now, but in the dingy waiting room, where Freda went to make inquiries, she found a shabbily dressed woman.

”Are you Freda Lewis?” the latter asked, starting forward.

”Yes, I am. But how did you know? Where is my mother? Did you send me a message? Oh, tell me quickly, please!”

”Now, dearie, don't get excited,” soothed the woman in accents that only made Freda worry more. ”It will be all right. I sent for you to come here because I wanted to have a chance to talk to you alone. Now if you'll sit down----”

”What do you mean?” asked Freda, quickly. ”I don't know you. What do you want?”

”Just to have a little talk with you. I thought it better to take this means than to go to your house. Sit down. You and your mother are trying to establish a claim to some property; aren't you?”

”Yes, that is well known. But what do you----”

”Never mind about that. I will tell you all in due time. Have you any papers to prove your claim?”

”Any papers?” asked Freda, suspiciously.

”Yes--deeds, mortgages or the like. I have studied law, and I may be able to help you. I have had experience in many disputed claims.”

”We don't know where----” Freda was about to say that they did not know where the papers were, when she thought better of it. Was it right to confide thus in a stranger?

”Now, dearie, tell me everything,” said the woman. ”You can trust me.

Or, better still, if you will come with me to the country hotel where I am stopping we will not be disturbed. Better come with me,” and in her eagerness she caught Freda by the arm.

”No, no! I'll not go!” gasped the girl. ”I want to find my mother. Who are you, and why do you ask me these questions? Did you send me that false message? What was your purpose in so deceiving me?”

”I did not deceive you!” replied the woman, sharply. ”It was for the good of your mother that I asked you to meet me here. I will explain all to you later, but not here. I can do you good. Only trust me. Come with me. I have a carriage waiting outside.”

Again she caught Freda's arm.

Then the hara.s.sed and nervous girl burst into tears. A kindly-faced hack driver, waiting outside in the hope of having some belated traveler hire him, heard. d.i.c.k Bently was a benevolent sort of chap, with daughters of his own. Hearing a girl crying he went into the depot.

”What's the matter, Miss?” he asked, and his tone was rea.s.suring.

”Oh, it's my mother!” gasped Freda. ”She isn't here, and this--this person sent me a message----”

”It was for your good, my dear,” interrupted the strange woman, with an evil smile. ”I'm trying to settle that property matter for you, my dearie!”

”Who are you, anyhow?” asked d.i.c.k belligerently. He did not like the appearance of the woman, nor her tone.

”It is not necessary for me to tell you anything,” she replied, with a.s.sumed dignity. ”If I am not wanted, I will go.”

”Maybe it would be better,” said the hackman. ”Now, can I help you, young lady?” he asked kindly, as the woman hurried off.

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