CHAPTER VII.
ON THE TRACK OF THE ABDUCTOR.
A half hour later Miss Gray and Marion alighted before a small, third rate hotel and Miss Gray paid the cabman with a bill which seemed to be all the money she had in her purse.
Almost as if in a dream Marion followed her into the office and up the stairs to a room on the top floor.
“We’ll stay here to-night,” said Miss Gray, as she locked the door carefully, “and to-morrow you shall go to your real uncle, Miss Marlowe. Just remember that ‘The Norwood’ is on Fifth avenue; any officer will direct you if I should not be able to go with you.”
“But, dear Miss Gray—you are in trouble yourself, I am sure of it,” said Marion eagerly. “Can’t I help you in any way? Just think how much I owe you!”
“You can help me, yes, but I will not tell you how, now,” was the woman’s answer; “neither will I tell you my story. It is not fit for your ears. Some other time, when I have vindicated myself perhaps—but come—let us retire, for you are weary and sleepy.”
Marion went to bed gratefully, for she was almost worn out with excitement and fatigue. In spite of her anxiety and bewilderment she soon fell asleep and slept soundly.
When she awoke next morning the sun was shining brightly. She raised herself from the pillow only to find that Miss Gray had deserted her.
“Gone! And I am all alone!”