unknown, keeping under cover during the day as much as possible.
According to the prearranged plan, they were to go aboard ship that
evening, as the sailing hour was early in the morning.

He was waiting for her train. Every now and then his glance would shoot
through the throng of people, somewhat apprehensively, as if he feared,
instead of hoped, that some one might be there. This searching glance
was to determine whether there might be any danger of Chicago or New
York acquaintances witnessing the arrival of the person for whom he
waited. Once he recognized a friend and dodged quickly behind a knot of
people, escaping notice. That is why he audibly muttered:

"Thank Heaven!"

Every nerve was tingling with excitement; an indescribable desire to
fly, to shout, to race down the track to meet the train, swept through
him. His heart almost stopped beating, and he felt that his face was
bloodless. For the twentieth time in the last two hours Ridgeway looked
at his watch and frowningly exclaimed:

"Only five after two! Nearly an hour to wait!"

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.