"You don't think they would follow us to Salisbury?"
"No; that is"—and he plunged into the intricacies of the time-table once more—"they couldn't; besides, they would receive our telegram before they could leave Basingstoke."
"Could they have gone off on the other train?"
"Impossible," he replied. "By Jove, they neither of them know where they are bound for!"
"Quite true," she said, "they do not. We had tickets for Exeter; but as a joke I never let my husband see them."
"We were going to Bournemouth, and here are my tickets," he returned, holding them up, "but my wife doesn't know it."
"You think there is no question that they are waiting for us at Basingstoke?" she asked.
"Not a doubt of it; and so we have nothing to do but kill time till we can rejoin them, which won't be hard in your society," he replied.
"I'm sorry I can't be so polite," she returned, "but I want my husband, and if you talk to me much more I shall probably cry."
The Consul at this made a dive for an adjacent newspaper, in which he remained buried till the train slowed down for Salisbury.