Then she began and told the girl all sorts of
tales about you, sir--said she was going back to London because she
was afraid that if she stopped here you would murder her--and that you
were her lawful husband, and she would have a warrant out against you,
and I don't know what all. I sat by and heard her with my own ears."
"Did she--did she indeed?" said Mr. Quest, with an attempt at a laugh.
"Well, she's a common thief and worse, that's what she is, and by this
time to-morrow I hope to see her safe in gaol. Ah! here comes the
train. Good-night, Jones. I can manage for myself now."
"What's his game?" said Jones to himself as he watched his master slip
on to the platform by a gate instead of going through the booking
office. "Well, I've had four quid out of it, any way, and it's no
affair of mine." And Jones went home to tea.
Meanwhile Mr. Quest was standing on the wet and desolate platform
quite away from the lamps, watching the white lights of the
approaching train rushing on through the storm and night. Presently it
drew up. No passengers got out.
"Now, mam, look sharp if you're going," cried the porter, and the
woman Edith came out of the refreshment room.
"There's the third, forrard there," said the porter, running to the
van to see about the packing of the mails.
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