'Twenty years!' echoed Miss Levering. 'Always arriving "after the train's gone,"—after the girl and the wrong person have got to the journey's end.'
Mrs. Heriot's eyes flashed, but before she could speak Jean asked—
'Where is she now?'
'Never mind.' Lady John turned again to the plan.
'Two nights ago she was waiting at a street corner in the rain.
'Near a public-house, I suppose?' Mrs. Heriot threw in.
'Yes; a sort of public-house. She was plainly dying. She was told she shouldn't be out in the rain. "I mustn't go in yet," she said. "This is what he gave me," and she began to cry. In her hand were two pennies silvered over to look like half-crowns.'
'I don't believe that story!' Mrs. Heriot announced. 'It's just the sort of thing some sensation-monger trumps up. Now, who tells you these——?'
'Several credible people. I didn't believe them till——'
'Till?' Jean came nearer.