"Oh, yes! Let us go from this place!" said Rosalind under her breath, her fingers tightly clenched together.
"Well, then, the sooner the better," said Mrs. Marsh. "Let it be to-morrow."
Rosalind looked up with gratitude and the moonlight in her eyes.
"Thank you, dear one," she said. "You are always skilled in divining, and never fail in being right."
And so it was done. The next forenoon saw the mother and daughter driving in an open landau past the Swan to Tormouth station, and, as they rolled by in state, Hylda Prout, who was peeping from a window after the figure of Osborne on his way to the station, saw them.
A glitter came into her eyes, and the unspoken thought was voiced in eloquent gesture: "What, following him so soon?"—for she knew that they could only be going by the London train, which had but one stopping-place after Tormouth. At once she rushed in a frenzy of haste to prepare to travel by that very train.
Some wild ringing of bells and promise of reward brought chambermaid and "boots" to her aid.
In her descent to the office to pay her bill she was encountered by her new friend, the Italian, who, surprised at her haste, said to her, "What, you go?"—to which she, hardly stopping, answered: "Yes—we will meet when we said—in two days' time."
"But me, too, I go," he cried, and ran to get ready, the antics of the pair creating some stir of interest in the bar parlor.
At this time Furneaux was already at the station, awaiting the train, having already wired to Winter in London to meet him at Waterloo. And so the same train carried all their various thoughts and purposes and secrets in its different compartments on the Londonward journey.