They turned and walked the length of the platform side by side. The train was in the station, and passengers were leisurely selecting their seats. From the door of the booking-office as they came opposite to it, among a hurrying group of late arrivals, Mrs Lawless emerged, tall and composed and very pale, with a cluster of early roses, fresh gathered with the dew still on them, drooping in her hands. A servant accompanied her carrying luggage. It was evident that she too was going by the train.
The Colonel was the first to see her; Hayhurst in his preoccupation had eyes for no one. He stopped, regarded her in surprise, and raised his hat.
“Mrs Lawless!” he exclaimed. “You! ... Surely you are not thinking—”
She looked him steadily in the eyes.
“I am going to Kraaifontein, Colonel Grey,” she interrupted him—“to find my husband.”
It was not often that the Colonel was startled beyond all power of lucid expression, but in the extremity of his amazement words failed him.
“Your—Eh?” he said, and stood still on the platform and stared at her.
He felt a touch on his arm.
“Unless you want to be left behind, you’d better take your seat.”
Tom Hayhurst stood at his elbow, his blue eyes on the woman’s face, with a mingling of respect in them and wondering resentment. He hurried them to the train, opened the door of an empty carriage, and shut it on them with a bang.