“You must take some refreshment.”
“I need nothing. Come!”
The gentleman glanced at his watch. “There is just time,” he said. He called a cab, told the driver to go at top speed. They reached Paddington just in time to catch the mail.
During the drive across London Madeline asked many questions, and learned from her companion that Mr. Carr had been staying for a day or two at a friend’s house in the west of England. That yesterday he had fallen from his horse and sustained such injuries that his life was despaired of. He had been continually calling for Madeline. They had found her address on a letter, and had telegraphed as soon as possible—for which act Miss Rowan thanked her companion with tears in her eyes.
Her conductor did not say much of his own accord, but in replying to her questions he was politely sympathetic. She thought of little outside the fearful picture which filled every corner of her brain, but from her conductor’s manner received the impression that he was a medical adviser who had seen the sufferer, and assisted in the treatment of the case. She did not ask his name, nor did he reveal it.
At Paddington he placed her in a ladies’ carriage and left her.
He was a smoker, he said. She wondered somewhat at this desertion. Then the train sped down West. At the large stations the gentleman came to her and offered her refreshments. Hunger seemed to have left her; but she accepted a cup of tea once or twice. At last sorrow, fatigue, and weakness produced by such a prolonged fast had their natural effect. With the tears still on her lashes the girl fell asleep, and must have slept for many miles: a sleep unbroken by stoppages at stations.
Her conductor at last aroused her. He stood at the door of the carriage. “We must get out here,” he said. All the momentarily-forgotten anguish came back to her as she stood beside him on the almost unoccupied platform.
“Are we there at last?” she asked.
“I am sorry to say we have still a long drive; would you like to rest first?”