As the headlight of the Rockaway engine gleamed along the hotel windows, Nora went back to see that everything was ready.
In the narrow passage between the kitchen and the dining-room she met Buckingham. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Now, my beauty," said Buck, laying a cold hand on her arm, "don't be excited."
She turned her honest eyes to him and he almost visibly shrank from them, as she had shuddered at the strange, cold touch of his hand.
"Put that powder in Cassidy's cup," he said, and in the half-light of the little hallway she saw his cruel smile.
"And kill Cassidy, the best friend I have on earth?"
"It will not kill him, but it may save his life. I shall be in his car to-night. Sabe? Do as I tell you. He will only fall asleep for a little while, otherwise—well, he may oversleep himself." She would have passed on, but he stayed her. "Where is it?" he demanded, with a meaning glance.
She touched her jacket pocket, and he released his hold on her arm.
The shuffle and scuffle of the feet of hungry travellers who were piling into the dining-room had disturbed them. Nora passed on to the rear, Buck out to sit down and dine with the passengers, who always had a shade the best of the bill.
From his favorite seat, facing the audience, he watched the trainmen tumbling into the alcove off the west wing, in one corner of which a couple of Pullman porters in blue and gold sat at a small table, feeding with their forks and behaving better than some of their white comrades behaved.