There were but few passengers for Abbeytown, so that when the policemen stepped out of the coupé, leading their prisoner between them—and when Sims stood by, guarding her, while Rutt went to call a cab—they were exposed to the observation of the whole crowd, who gathered around, quickly identified the party, and began to whisper audibly that the notorious Eudora Leaton, the poisoner of her uncle’s family, was there in custody of the police, and to elbow, push, and crowd each other in their anxiety to see her face.
Eudora, nearly fainting with distress, put up her hands to draw her veil closer about her face, and in so doing exposed her fettered wrists.
“Handcuffed, too, by all that’s blue! What a desperate ’un she must be, to be sure,” said a rude man, pushing near, and trying to look under her veil.
“Stand back, will you?” shouted Sims, angrily.
“Oh, we mustn’t look at her, mustn’t we? Well, then, I reckon the day’ll come as we’ll get a full view of her for nothing. Calcraft’s patients don’t wear weils to hide their blushes.”
Eudora shuddered at this rude speech, when luckily the other officer came up with the cab, and she was hurried into it, out of the insulting scrutiny of the mob.
Among those who had gazed with even more interest than curiosity upon the hapless girl, was a tall, thin, mustachioed foreigner, wrapped in a large cloak, and having a travelling-cap pulled down low over his piercing eyes. He had come down alone in a first-class carriage, and now stood waiting upon the platform.
When the cab had rolled out of sight, and the train had started, and the bustle of the arrival and departure was over, the stranger turned to an employée at the station, and said:
“Who is that young girl that arrived in charge of the police?”
“That, sir? why, a most notorious criminal, sir, as has just been taken in London; by name Miss Leaton, sir; more’s the pity, for it’s a noble one to end in shame and ruin.”