"
Quin brushed the suggestion aside. "It's no use wasting time on him;
we've got to reach her."
"But how can we? Let me think. Do you suppose I could send her a telegram
to be delivered on the train? _Anything_ that would make her wait until
somebody could get to her."
"I'll get to her," Quin cried. "I'll search every hotel in Chicago. You
send the telegram and I'll start on the next train."
A hurried consultation of time-tables showed that a Pennsylvania train
left in ten minutes, and was due in Chicago the next morning at
seven-thirty.
"You can't make that," said Rose, but even as she spoke Quin was rushing
for the door.
"Have you got enough money?" she called after him.
His meteor flight was checked. Ramming his hands in his pockets, he
pulled out a handful of silver.
"Wait!" cried Rose, speeding up to her room and returning with a small
roll of bills. "It's what's left of Nell's check. Good-by--I'll send the
telegram."
Ten minutes later, as the night express for Chicago pulled out of the
station, the bystanders were amused by the sight of a bare-headed young
man dashing madly through the gate and across the railroad tracks.
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