"Oh, my precious child, I quite forgot all about Mr. Clyde! He is just as happy as the rest of us. That letter of yours, you angel of all good tidings, is going to save him. It was from your father, you know, and it proves that Mr. Clyde was not in Houston that fatal night. I had to leave him to come back to look after you, but that is going to be all straightened out in a very short time. All because of that letter, dearest girl! See how things have worked out!"
She looked at me, breathless, bewildered, trying to understand all these marvels. Then suddenly she burst into nervous tears. It was just as well. It relieved the emotional strain--and it gave me a chance to comfort her.
It was some time before I remembered that Miss Thurston and Mr. Ellison and Mrs. Whyte and the police department were still uninformed that Miss Jean Benbow need not be the object of further search.
"You see!" I pointed out to her. "You put all the rest of the world out of my mind. Now stand here and tell me what I shall say to Mrs. Whyte." And I took down the office telephone.
"Tell her that since I have lost my train, I'll come back for awhile," she said demurely.
"Is that your only reason for staying, young lady?"
"Isn't that enough?"
"There are other trains!"
"But I have lost the one I wanted!"
"What have you found instead?"