"Is the train in?" she cried, struggling to her feet eagerly.

"I think not." He was slowing down. A moment later the throbbing car
came to a stop beside the railway station platform. The lights blinked
feebly through the mist; far off in the night arose the faint toot of
a locomotive's whistle.

"We're just in time," he cried. "She's coming. Quick!" He lifted her
bodily over the side of the car, jerked two suitcases from beneath the
curtains, and rushed frantically to the shelter of the platform sheds.

"I'll leave you here, dear," he was saying rapidly. "Wait a second;
there is your railroad ticket and your drawing-room ticket, too. I'll
wake Derby when I get on board. I have to run the automobile down to
Henry's garage first. Won't take ten seconds. Don't worry. The train
won't be here for three or four minutes. Get on board and go to sleep.
I'll be two cars ahead."

"Oh, Joe, won't I see you again before we start?" she cried
despairingly.

"I'll be back in a minute. It's only half a block to Henry's. All I
have to do is to leave the car in front of his place. His men will
look after it. It's all understood, dearest; don't worry. I'll be here
before the train, never fear. Stand here in the shadow, dear." He gave
her what might have been a passionate kiss had it not been for the
intervention of veil and goggles. Then he was off to the motor, his
heart thumping frantically. Standing as stiff and motionless as a
statue against the damp brick wall, she heard the automobile leap away
and go pounding down the street. Apparently she was alone on the