In spite of the fact that
the streets were like glass from the driving rain, and the wind-shield a
gray blur, in spite of the fact that a tire went flat on a rear wheel,
that decrepit old taxi rose to the occasion and made the transit in
record time.
Arrived at the station, Quin thrust a bill into the driver's hand and
dashed down the steps to the lower level. In answer to his frenzied
inquiry he was told that the Express had come in two hours before and
that the passengers had probably all left the sleeper by this time.
Nothing daunted, he rushed out to the tracks and accosted a porter who
was sweeping out the rear coach.
"Yas, sir, this is it," answered the negro. "Young lady? Yas, sir; there
was five or six of 'em on board last night. Pretty? Yas, sir, they was
all pretty--all but one, and she wasn't so bad looking."
"Did one of them get a telegram in the night or this morning?"
The porter's face brightened. "Yas, sir. Boy come through soon as we got
in. Had a wire for young lady in lower six."
"Do you know what time she left the car?"
"About half hour ago, I should say. Party she was expecting to meet her
didn't turn up, and I had to git her a red-cap to carry her suit-case.
Pages:
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305