Luncheon over, there was nothing to remind her of the probable invalid in Number Six until late in the afternoon when, looking through the open door of the drawing-room, she saw the porter carrying a glass of water to the invisible sufferer. Quite suddenly her interest became acute. Who was the sick one? and why was he, or she, travelling without an attendant?
With Margery Grierson, to question was to ascertain; and the Pullman conductor, once more checking his diagrams in Section Eleven, offered the readiest means of enlightenment. A few minutes later Margery rejoined her father in the private compartment.
"Do you remember the nice-looking young man who sat at the table with us in the Chouteau last night?" she began abruptly.
The gray-wolf Jasper nodded. He had an excellent memory for faces.
"What did you think of him?" The query followed the nod like a nimble boxer's return blow.
"I thought he paid a whole lot more attention to you than he did to his supper. Why?"
"He is on this car; sick with a fever of some kind, and out of his head. He is going to Wahaska."
"How do you know it's the same one?"
"I made the conductor take me to see him. He talked to me in Italian and called me 'Carlotta mia.'"
"Humph! he didn't look like a dago."