United States or South Africa ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
That the station should harbor a visitor at that hour was not surprising. But the beauty of the stranger caught Miss Van Arsdale's regard, and her bearing held it. "A passenger, Ban?" she asked, lowering her voice. "Yes, Miss Camilla." "Left over from the wreck?" He nodded. "You came in the nick of time. I don't quite know what to do with her." "Why didn't she go on the relief train?"
"Of course, if it's something to do with the railroad I'd have to be careful. I can't give away the company's affairs." "I don't think it is." Miss Van Arsdale's troubled eyes strayed toward the inner room. Following them, Banneker's lighted up with a flash of astonished comprehension. "You don't think " he began. His friend nodded assent. "Why should the newspapers be after her?"
As the time for departure drew near, they fell into and effortfully maintained that meaningless, banal, and jerky talk which is the inevitable concomitant of long partings between people who, really caring for each other, can find nothing but commonplaces wherewith to ease their stress of mind. Miss Van Arsdale's common sense came to the rescue.
Camilla Van Arsdale's face was white and lifeless and still, as she turned it toward the girl. "You must have been a very precocious five-year-old," she said steadily. "All the Olneys are precocious. My mother was an Olney, a first cousin of Mrs. Willis Enderby, you know." "Yes; I remember now." The malicious smile on the girl's delicate lips faded.
With the others departed Miss Camilla Van Arsdale's two emergency guests, one of them the rather splendid young woman who had helped with the wounded. They invaded Banneker's office with supplementary telegrams and talked about their hostess with that freedom which women of the world use before dogs or uniformed officials. "What a woman!" said the amateur nurse.
He tried one subject after another, interjecting protestations of his friendship for Saul. Donaldson heard nothing but the even voice and the sibilant dialect. He seemed chained to that one torturing picture. Even the prospect of finding the boy and so ending the suspense which had battered Miss Arsdale's nerves for so long brought little relief.
Bewilderment darkened Io's mind as she read, to be succeeded by an appalled conjecture; Camilla Van Arsdale's mind had broken down under her griefs. What other hypothesis could account for her writing of Willis Enderby as being still alive? And of her having letters from him?
A dun pony ambled along the pine-needle-carpeted trail leading through the forest toward Camilla Van Arsdale's camp, comfortably shaded against the ardent power of the January sun. Behind sounded a soft, rapid padding of hooves. The pony shied to the left with a violence which might have unseated a less practiced rider, as, with a wild whoop, Dutch Pete came by at full gallop.
The boy's fists were clenched as though he were about to strike. Donaldson stood with his arms hanging limply by his side. He felt Arsdale's right to strike if he wished. "I have n't gone," he answered. "I don't know what has happened," Arsdale ran on heatedly, "but I want to tell you this that as much as you 've done for me, I won't stand for your hurting her."
This he knew must be done in order to offset Arsdale's possible attempt to give himself up when he should hear of this. As a student he had been impressed with the unreliability of direct evidence, and here would be an opportunity to test his theory that much of the evidence to the senses is worthless. From the moment he had determined upon this course he had based his hopes upon this test.
Word Of The Day