She walked a long way before she met any one of whom she liked to ask
direction. At last she saw an elderly man standing under a lamp-post,
reading a letter. Draxy studied his face, and then stopped quietly by his
side without speaking. He looked up.

"I thought as soon as you had finished your letter, sir, I would ask you
to tell me where Stephen Potter lives."

It was marvelous what an ineffable charm there was in the subtle mixture
of courtesy and simplicity in Draxy's manner.

"I am going directly by his house myself, and will show you," replied the
old gentleman. "Pray let me take your bag, Miss."

"Was it for you," he added, suddenly recollecting the strange stopping of
the express train, "was it for you the express train stopped just now?"

"Yes, sir," said Draxy. "The conductor very kindly put me off."

The old gentleman's curiosity was strongly roused, but he forbore asking
any further questions until he left Draxy on the steps of the house, when
he said: "are they expecting you?"

"Oh no, sir," said Draxy quietly. "I do not know them."

"Most extraordinary thing," muttered the old gentleman as he walked on. He
was a lawyer, and could not escape from the professional habit of looking
upon all uncommon incidents as clews.