'No, you will have to excuse me,' Arthur replied. 'I am too tired to encounter old acquaintances or make new. I do not believe I could stand old Peterkin, who you say is a millionaire. I suppose you want his influence; your coachman told me you were running for Congress,' and Arthur laughed the old merry musical laugh which Frank remembered so well: then, suddenly changing his tune, he said: 'When does the next train from the East pass the station?'
Frank told him at seven the next morning, and he continued:
'Please send the carriage to meet it. Gretchen will probably be there. She was in the train with me, and should have gotten out when I did, but she must have been asleep and carried by.'
'Gr-gr-gretchen! Who is she?' Frank stammered, while the cold sweat began to run down his back.
The 'us' in the telegram did mean something, and mischief, too, to his interests, he felt intuitively.
Instantly into Arthur's eyes there stole a look of cunning, and a peculiar smile played round his mouth as he replied:
'She is Gretchen. See that the carriage goes for her, will you?'
His voice and manner indicated that he wished the conference ended, and with a great sinking at his heart Frank left the room and returned to his guests and his wife, who had not seen the stranger when he entered the hall, and thus did not know of Arthur's arrival until her husband rejoined her.
'He has come,' he whispered to her, while she whispered back:
'Is he alone?'