Again he looked out through the window. Was it a trick of his eyes, he
wondered, or did he see once more that pale and haunting face in the
gloom just beyond the lampglow? His fingers closed a little tighter upon
the thin packet in his hand. At least he had found an excuse; if she was
still there--if he could find her--he had an adequate apology for going
to her. She had forgotten something; it was simply a matter of courtesy
on his part to return it. As he alighted into the half foot of snow on
the platform he could have given no other reason for his action. His
mind could not clarify itself; it had no cohesiveness of purpose or of
emotion at this particular juncture. It was as if a strange and magnetic
undertow were drawing him after her. And he obeyed the impulse. He began
seeking for her, with the thin packet in his hand.




CHAPTER IV


David followed where he fancied he had last seen the woman's face and
caught himself just in time to keep from pitching over the edge of the
platform. Beyond that there was a pit of blackness. Surely she had not
gone there.

Two or three of the bells were still clanging, but with abated
enthusiasm; from the dimly lighted platform, grayish-white in the
ghostly flicker of the oil lamps, the crowd of hungry passengers was
ebbing swiftly in its quest of food and drink; a last half-hearted
bawling of the virtue to be found in the "hot steak _an_' liver'n onions