On the next floor there were no public rooms but only endless corridors with bedrooms opening off. There was not a soul in sight and he hesitated which way to turn. Finally a chambermaid appeared around a corner, and a piece of silver procured him information.
"Yes, sir, she just went down the corridor on the right. She asked me if there was another stairs, and I told her yes, at the end of that corridor."
Jack hastened in the direction named. At the foot of the rear stairs he found a door giving on a quiet back street. The door-keeper supplied the next link of information.
"Yes, sir, there was a taxi waiting for her. She just drove away."
"Hm!" thought Jack ruefully, "that's a good one on me! Either she knows this place of old, or else she fixed it up on the way with the taxi-driver."
He was not greatly concerned by this mishap, for he knew the time the Southern train was due to arrive in Baltimore, and he expected to meet her again there. The time was six-thirty. He spent the interim in buying himself an overcoat of striking cut, and a tweed hat that would pull down low on his head. These articles changed his appearance not a little. On the way uptown he stopped in at the Warwick, but Miriam had not returned there.
When he got to the station Miriam was not to be seen among the crowd. The train was forty-five minutes late. Informing himself as to which gate the passengers would be discharged through, he took a seat commanding it, and affected to busy himself with a magazine.
As the time for the coming of the train drew near, and no Miriam showed up, a sharp anxiety attacked him. He wondered if he could have erred in his calculations. He knew she had not had time since he lost her, to telegraph down the line for Bobo to get off at Washington.
The train drew in, and the passengers began mounting the steps. Still no sign of Miriam. But suddenly Jack caught sight of Bobo among the passengers and his spirits rebounded.
"Is she going to let me carry him off?" he wondered.