“Go on,” she said coolly, “I am curious to hear the rest.” Page [240]
He vaulted through the window which he had already opened. The sound of wheels had died away, but he set his face at once towards the station, running with long easy strides, and gradually increasing his pace. Stephen Hurd, with his handkerchief to his mouth, and with all his nerves tingling with a sense of fierce excitement, looked behind him continually, but saw nothing. Long before he reached the station he had abandoned all fear of pursuit. Yet during the last half-mile Macheson was never more than a few yards from him, and on St. Pancras platform he was almost the first person he encountered.
“Macheson! By God!”
He almost dropped the coat he was carrying. He looked at Macheson as one might look at a visitor from Mars. It was not possible that this could be the man from whom he had fled. Macheson smiled at him grimly.
“How did—how did you get here?” the young man faltered.
“By the same train as you,” Macheson answered. “How else? Where are you going to meet Letty?”
Hurd answered with a curse.
“Why the devil can’t you mind your own business?” he demanded.