"Where is she?"
"Waiting at the hotel—waiting for the word you could not send."
They made an intensely quiet islet amidst the buffeting human tide. The governor's face was drawn, and in the electric glare looked pasty white.
"That is why you sent for me?" he asked.
"That is why. Believe me, it was necessary."
"I believe you," Shelby answered slowly. "Tell me what you have done."
"It's a short story. About five o'clock I passed them. Their train was at a standstill, mine was running slowly because of a washout. I saw your wife at a window. Then we made an unexpected stop near a station, and I left my train for theirs."
"Then?"
"That's all. I think neither was sorry to see me. I came at the reaction—the psychological moment."
Shelby thought North wished to spare him the recital, which was true in a measure. Yet the canon's reticence had its taproot in the natural man who perforce did his strong deeds simply.