CHAPTER III.
WHILE the train was standing in the station at Rugby, and the majority of the male passengers were taking their last “night-caps” at the bar of the refreshment room, before composing themselves finally to sleep, a voice of somewhat uncertain fibre called to the guard as he passed the window of the carriage occupied by Richard Dalrymple.
“Guard, come here a minute. Can you tell me how that handkerchief got into this carriage?” and the speaker handed the dainty piece of cambric which he had found to the astonished guard.
Before the latter had time to frame a reply a shrill female voice from the next compartment called out, “Come here at once please, guard, quick!!”
The call was so urgent and the necessity of the caller apparently so desperate that, with a hasty “Excuse me, one moment, sir,” to Richard Dalrymple, the guard stepped to the door of the adjoining compartment.
“Come inside please, guard, I’ve crushed my finger in the window and can’t get it out.”
As soon as the guard had entered the carriage the lady who had called him—Miss Beattison’s companion—promptly placed herself in front of the door to prevent anyone from seeing inside, and then waved the guard toward her mistress.
“O, conductor, please tell me,” said the other with great eagerness, “what the gentleman in the next compartment found. I overheard part of your conversation but not all.”
“Well, miss, he found this handkerchief, and it seems to have startled him very considerably indeed.”
“O dear, dear, it is one of mine which I must have dropped in that place to-night. You will remember that you showed us into that compartment first of all, but I exchanged it for this one because it gave me a better view of the entrance gate, and enabled me to see who was going off by train.