“There has been an accident, and people hurt,” said Marian.
The waiter pricked up his ears, noting her pale and strained look.
“Anybody as you are interested in travelling by the train?” he demanded.
“Yes,” said Marian.
“And you want to know about them, eh? What name?”
“I must speak to Mrs. Blogg,” said Marian.
“You’ll have to wait, then,” responded the waiter, his sympathy lessening. He ran over Marian with a pair of sharp eyes, a little puzzled as to her social status. “There’s people in the parlor; but you can sit there—or here.”
“I can wait here,” Marian answered quietly.
“What name am I to give Mrs. Blogg?”
“You needn’t give any. Tell her I have just come from a distance, and she will know me.”