"Thank God, they will see him now as I have seen him all these years. They will know him as they have never known him. Thank God for that!"
The man looked at her stupidly and muttered something under his breath. She heard him, and recalling her wits, asked which turn she was to take for the station. The fellow lopped back in the seat, too drunk to reply.
For a moment she was dismayed, frightened. Then she resolutely reached out and shook him by the shoulder. She had brought the car to a full stop.
"Arouse yourself, man!" she cried. "Do you want to freeze to death? Where is the station?"
He straightened up with an effort, and, after vainly seeking light in the darkness, fell back again with a grunt, but managed to wave his hand toward the left. She took the chance. In five minutes she brought the car to a standstill beside the station. Through the window she saw a man with his feet cocked high, reading. He leaped to his feet in amazement as she entered the waiting-room.
"Are you the agent?" she demanded.
"No, ma'am. I'm simply stayin' here for the sheriff. We're lookin' for a woman—Say!" He stopped short and stared at the veiled face with wide, excited eyes. "Gee whiz! Maybe you—"
"No, I am not the woman you want. Do you know anything about the trains?"
"I guess I'll telephone to the sheriff before I—"
"If you will step outside you will find one of the sheriff's deputies in my automobile, helplessly intoxicated. I am Mrs. Wrandall."
"Oh," he gasped. "I heard 'em say you were coming up to-night. Well, say! What do you think of—"
"Is there a train in before morning?"
"No ma'am. Seven-forty is the first."
She waited a moment. "Then I shall have to ask you to come out and get your fellow-deputy. He is useless to me. I mean to go on in the machine. The sheriff understands."
The fellow hesitated.
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