her. It might be painful."

"It probably would." The Pittsburgher turned to Banneker with a change
of tone, implying that he could not have taken any possible heed of what
went before. "Has Miss Van Arsdale lived here long, do you know?"

The agent looked at her intently for a moment before replying: "Longer
than I have." He transferred his gaze to the pretty woman. "You two were
her guests, weren't you?" he asked.

The visitors glanced at each other, half amused, half aghast. The tone
and implication of the question had been too significant to be
misunderstood. "Well, of all extraordinary--" began one of them under
her breath; and the other said more loudly, "I really beg--" and then
she, too, broke off.

They went out. "Châtelaine and knightly defender," commented the younger
one in the refuge of the outer office. "Have we been dumped off a train
into the midst of the Middle Ages? Where do you get station-agents like
that?"

"The one at our suburban station chews tobacco and says 'Marm' through
his nose."

Banneker emerged, seeking the conductor of the special with a message.

"He is rather a beautiful young thing, isn't he?" she added.

Returning, he helped them on the train with their hand-luggage. When the
bustle and confusion of dispatching an extra were over, he sat down to