Not a word was spoken on the way to the station, but as the stranger paid the extra dollar Belinda fumbled in her purse.
"Never mind; we'll settle up afterward. Let's see if they are here."
No sign of the runaway couple. Belinda collapsed weakly into a seat and there were tears in her eyes.
"Don't, please don't," begged the man beside her. "You sit here and I'll try the gatemen. Anybody'd be likely to spot a freak couple like that. Perhaps their train hasn't gone yet."
A few minutes later Belinda saw him bolt into the waiting-room and stop at a ticket window.
"Come on," he said, as he rushed up to her. "They've gone to Albany—train left fifteen minutes ago. Gateman thought they were funny, and noticed their tickets. He says the girl was crying. We'll have to step lively."
"B-b-but what are we going to do?" stammered Belinda, as he hurried her through the gate and down the long platform.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. We're going to Albany on the Chicago Express."
He helped her on the train, deposited her in a seat on the shady side of a Pullman car, sat down beside her and fanned his flushed face with his cap.
Belinda strove for speech, but no words came. Things appeared to be altogether out of her hands.