“They sent me up to tell you,” he began, as soon as he saw her, “that the 11:55 train you ordered the carriage for is took off, and you can’t go till 1:40.”
“I think you have come to the wrong room,” said Marion.
“Number 39, fourth story,” said the boy.
“This is Number 38,” said Marion.
“O, then, I’m on the wrong side,” said the boy. “I aint been here but one day, and I got turned round. Number 39 must be across the hall.”
He knocked at the opposite door, and Marion, with her door imperceptibly ajar, saw the hooked-nosed young man, after a moment of conversation, come out and walk rapidly down the hall with the boy. He came back in half an hour, and Marion, from the position she had resumed at the transom, could hear tones of angry disappointment from the women, to whom he seemed to be telling something. Once she thought she caught the words:
“It will make us miss the express in New York!”
She felt convinced that they were going on the train the boy spoke of, but she had no way of telling whether it was a day or night train. The noon whistles were blowing then, so she would not have to wait long to find out.
The next two hours were very agitating. One and another of the party opposite kept leaving their rooms, but as they never all left together she thought probably they went down to dine.
A waiter brought up a tray with dinner for the sick boy, Marion heard him say, as he knocked on the door.