The Lion's Mouse

								

the "friend" who would take the girl away from him.
"But Chicago's a long way off," she said when he did not speak. "It must
seem a wild story to you, but the danger I'm in ... the danger that this
envelope is in ... won't be over for one minute till you've put me into
my friend's hands. You will do that, won't you? You'll see me through
till the last?"
"I will," said Roger.
"And meanwhile you'll come and call on me in the stateroom sometimes if
you don't mind?"
Roger smiled. A silver lining began to glimmer through the cloud.
By good luck he knew no one on board save O'Reilly, who fortunately was
in another car, and he hoped that few people knew him. He could not
resist her invitation. He began by deciding to spend a half hour with
his "invalid cousin" now and again. As through the veil of beauty he
caught glimpses of something like character within, Roger felt that the
mystery thickened.
The inevitable moment came. The porter was brushing men's hats and
coats. Suitcases were being fastened up. The Limited was slowing down in
the big station. Then, and not till then, did Miss White show herself at
the door of Stateroom A. Sands, who had knocked to tell her that she had
better come out, was waiting to guard her for the last time. Neither had
much to say. The hope of haven had not raised the girl's spirits. As
Sands gave her a hand, stepping on to the platform, he saw Justin
O'Reilly, already out of the train and looking about with the air of
expecting someone. O'Reilly took off his hat, with an unnecessarily
cordial smile for Sands. At heart they were enemies. Roger took the
smile to mean amusement at sight of his companion. He felt annoyed. Miss
White was looking straight ahead, a brilliant colour staining the cheeks
usually pale.
The rendezvous, she had explained to him, was at a news stand. "There!"
she said, "that is where he will be. There's such a crowd, I can't see
him yet."
They neared the news stand, and as "Miss White" was a tall girl whose
head could be seen above the hats of average women, he expected a man to
start eagerly forward. But no man separated himself from the crowd. She
was beginning to look anxious: there was no flush on her cheeks now.
"Where can he be?" she said. "Something must have happened."
"Taxi broken down, perhaps," Roger tried consolation.
"Oh, if only it's nothing worse! I must just wait. But you, Mr. Sands, I
oughtn't to ask...."
"You needn't," Roger cut her short. "I'm not going to desert you."
"I might have known you wouldn't. He can't be long!"
"What about the envelope? Will you have it now?" Roger asked. She had
begged him to keep it until they were out of the train.
"Not yet. I daren't. You're sure it hasn't been stolen from you? Do
please make certain!"
He put his hand inside his coat, and felt the envelope, which was safe,
of course. "It's there, as large as life."
"Thank heaven!" she breathed.