THE MYSTERY OF MARY


[Illustration: THEY STRUGGLED UP, SCARCELY PAUSING FOR BREATH _Page 8_]




The Mystery _of_ Mary




I


He paused on the platform and glanced at his watch. The train on which he
had just arrived was late. It hurried away from the station, and was
swallowed up in the blackness of the tunnel, as if it knew its own
shortcomings and wished to make up for them.

It was five minutes of six, and as the young man looked back at the long
flight of steps that led to the bridge across the tracks, a delicate
pencilling of electric light flashed into outline against the city's
deepening dusk, emphasizing the lateness of the hour. He had a dinner
engagement at seven, and it was yet some distance to his home, where a
rapid toilet must be made if he were to arrive on time.