In the Name of the People

by Arthur W. Marchmont

She had obviously run away from me.

When first Marco, then Barosa and lastly Maral had left the house not to return, Miralda and Inez would have been both desperately perplexed and thoroughly scared. Waiting to fly in accordance with the plan which Marco had explained to me, they would immediately conclude either that the men had been arrested or had had to run from the police.

In this condition of fear they would naturally keep a sharp look-out, and thus would have seen me. In my disguise their inevitable inference would be that I was a police spy who had discovered their hiding-place, and my movements had been just such as would tend to confirm that belief.

When I broke into the house, therefore, they would realize that their only chance was to fly from it, especially when they found that I was alone and that no police were in the street to stop them.

A moment’s consideration prompted the conclusion that they would make for the railway station in the hope that Barosa or one of the other men would elude arrest and be there to meet them.

I hurried out of the house, therefore. The carriage was waiting, and having questioned the driver and found that he had not seen any one come out of the side street, I told him to drive to the station as fast as he could.

It was fairly certain that neither Maral nor Marco would run the risk of going to the railway. Barosa probably had the tickets in his possession; and as I was resolved that Inez should leave the city, my first act was to purchase a ticket and put it in an envelope together with some banknotes, in case she should be without money.

Then I made a round of the building in search of them. They would almost certainly be disguised, but I was confident that my instinct would enable me to detect Miralda, however well disguised, while the fact that the viscontesse was to be of the party would help me.

Neither the viscontesse nor any one even remotely suggesting Miralda was in the station, however. A train was due out in a quarter of an hour after my arrival, and I loitered near the barrier, keeping a sharp but futile look-out, until it occurred to me that I myself might be defeating my object. If the two had seen me as a spy getting into the house, they would instantly conclude that I was watching for them now. So I looked for a place where I could hide and still watch.

Five more minutes passed and I scrutinized every passenger and every individual within sight. A rather lanky youth in the company of a squat, stout, broad-shouldered market woman, apparently his mother, appeared to be waiting to meet some one, but there was not another soul loitering anywhere in the station.