Part 3 (1/2)
He sat down for a moment, only to arise the next and walk to the board announcing the arrival of trains. Almost immediately one pulled into the station. Perceiving a bystander--one of the sort that always give the impression of being well-informed--he inquired casually where it was from.
”Chicago,” was the ready answer.
”Great Scott! Lucky I came early! Grace's idea of time--oh, well, only the small matter of an hour out of the way.”
Quickly he sprang forward, taking up a good position to watch. First came a man hurriedly and alone. A bunch of people followed him. Hugh peered unsuccessfully here and there among them. Another bunch; she was not in it, and he began to feel a trifle nervous. Now came the stragglers and he grew bewildered. Finally, the last one--a woman hove in sight. With renewed hope he scanned her approach. It was not Grace!
His brain was in a whirl. What could have happened? Where was she?
Again he jerked out the telegram.
”Meet me Forty-second Street, New York, at three,” he read half-aloud.
”Nothing could be plainer,” he mused in perplexity. ”No train at three; another at--she must be on a later one.”
”What time is the next Chicago train due?” he inquired anxiously at the Information Bureau.
”Five-thirty, sir,” politely answered the official.
”Five-thirty!” he repeated disgustedly.
Again the telegram was brought out and this time shown.
”On what road did you expect the lady?” was the question put with well-simulated interest that every few minutes was practised on different individuals.
”Road?” Hugh stared blankly at his questioner. ”What road?” Then, like a flash, the solution of the problem pierced his brain.
”What an a.s.s I am!” he burst out, and added sheepishly: ”West Sh.o.r.e!”
Purposely avoiding the other's face for confirmation of his self-depreciatory exclamation, together with its unmistakable expression of professional tolerance for the imbecilities of mankind, Hugh looked at the time. It was two-thirty. Tearing out of the station, he hailed a cab.
Inside, and moving fast, he winced a little as he thought of his late strictures on girls and their ways. What a shame to have abused Grace, when he himself had told her to take the Wabash as essential to their plan. What a blooming idiot he was! New York in the telegram meant, of course, the New York side of the river. He recovered his equanimity; the world was serene again.
With a sharp pull the cabman brought up at the ferry and Hugh took his stand among those waiting for the boat to disgorge its load of pa.s.sengers.
At that moment a thought struck him, and acting on it, he called out:
”Hi! porter!”
”Here, sir!”
”Where can I get some note paper?”
”All right, sir!” and in an instant a pad of paper was forthcoming.
Hugh took out his pencil and wrote a brief note. Then, in a low voice, he said:
”Here, porter! I want you to do something for me.”
”Yes, sir!”
”I'll make it worth your while, but I won't hare you attending to any one else--understand?”