“Time enough when we are sure we are being followed,” said Ruth, and Helen agreed with her that there was really no end to be gained by speaking of the incident.
Even had they been right in identifying the man they had glimpsed on the platform as Charlie Reid, neither Ruth nor Helen could advance any theory as to why the fellow was following them. But they knew that if this was indeed Ruth’s enemy, he would sooner or later reveal his purpose to them, and they were in no hurry for that time to come.
As a matter of fact, as time went on and their journey neared a close, both Ruth and Helen became nearly convinced that it was not Charlie Reid they had seen in the station at all. For the person they had thought was Reid had certainly boarded the train with them. Knowing this, the girls made repeated excursions throughout the length of the train and examined every passenger closely while, at the same time, not appearing to do so.
But they saw no sign of Charlie Reid. Either he had boarded the train and left it at the very next stop or he was keeping himself well hidden.
The failure to see anything of Reid helped drive the unpleasant incident from Ruth’s mind, and by the time they reached Seattle, Bloomberg had once more faded into a rather dim background.
The morning on which they were due at their destination found them really sorry to terminate their Arabian Nights’ train trip.
“I never had so much fun,” sighed Helen, as they sat among freshly packed grips with their hats and wraps close at hand. “After this no one can ever tell me that traveling is a bore. I shall contradict them rudely!”
“It has been a lark,” Ruth agreed. “I’ve felt all along as though we were riding in a private train.”
“Maybe you will be some day; who knows,” said Tom, with a smile, and Ruth’s own quick smile answered it.
“Not for a considerable time yet, Tom, if ever,” she said. “But it is sort of fun to play with the idea, isn’t it?”