"With every word of it, my dear lady. Our study of mankind finds us rare dunces. I think most of us would be ploughed if our degrees depended upon it. We are shrewd judges of results, but children in estimating the mind by which results are achieved. And we have ceased, alas! to be pioneers. Even Mr. Benson cannot claim to have invented the aeroplane. He is but an imitator, though a very clever one, I admit."
He perceived that she was interested, and went on to tell her all that had been said of Benny during the day. Totally destitute of the commercial mind himself, and wofully ignorant of finance, he repeated Sir Gordon Snagg's loquacious prophecies. It would be odd if Mr. Benson did not make a hundred thousand pounds in the course of the year, and that, surely, was a very big sum for such a man. Why, he would never know what to do with it. Then there would be all the fame attending—just fame, and well earned. Already a message had come from the King, and the French President had conferred the Grand Cordon upon the victor. It was said that Mr. Benson had received offers which would carry him to every quarter of the globe. He was to leave Switzerland immediately, it was understood, going straight to London, where a great reception had been prepared for him by Sir John Perinder.
Lily heard him with an occasional word of comment, but did not question him further. Presently the great express came steaming into the station; the gongs rang musically, and the English people flocked across the rails to take their places. This was the northern-bound train. But the night express for Milan followed it almost at once, and a rare confusion followed. Everyone bawled the news to everyone else who would listen. There had been an accident at Domo d'Ossola, and the line was quite blocked; they had to transfer the passengers to the southern-bound train, which was held up beyond the tunnel; it had not been a serious accident, and nobody was hurt. When the trains departed at length, the flare from their furnaces could be seen for many miles, the great funnels vomiting flame, and the wind carrying the sparks high above the valley. Then, as by magic, the little station appeared to settle down to sleep; the officials vanished; the English people returned to their hotel; the red and green lanterns stood sentinels of the night.
It was just after ten o'clock when Lily re-entered the corridor of the Terminus. She had no desire to go to bed, and when the parson begged permission to smoke his "lastly" with her, she assented very willingly. This kindly, gentle soul, the world appeared to have cast him out also, for he was without kith or kin, a lonely bachelor in this wilderness of mountains, desiring nothing so much as the good of mankind, but deprived by the subtleties of the ecclesiastical system from any performance which would have done him credit before the people. Naturally, he delighted in the society of a beautiful woman, who stood to him for a type of all that was highest and holiest in the human story. At a look from her he would have revealed the most sacred truths of his life—for so are men led to the confessional; but the opportunity passed, and he spoke again of things he believed to be commonplace.
"By the way," he said, "do you remember the strange affair at Vermala?"
She looked up astonished.
"Yes, indeed; and what of it?"
"Well, I chanced to meet one of the gendarmes this morning, a mere boy, whom they call Philip Gaillarde. He tells me that the affair is no longer a mystery. It was his brother who was killed on the Zaat—I believe by an Englishman who has been in trouble. The young man had just obtained leave from his superiors to go into Italy—I think he must have started by the morning train. He says that the assassin is near Locarno on Lake Maggiore. He has gone there to-day to arrest him."
Lily made what reply she could, but she did not speak again of it. The night had been very cold, and now that they were under shelter again she began to fear that she had taken a chill. A shivering fit was succeeded by a little faintness, which caused the parson great concern. He advised her to go to bed immediately, and she welcomed the suggestion.
Philip Gaillarde in Italy! What, then, had prevented her going that morning? An excuse of the trains. She knew that it was not so, but rather the hope that she might yet see a man who loved her, and say "farewell" to him.