Colonel Falconer gave a keen, scrutinizing glance into the young man’s face by the light afforded from a gas lamp near by.
Then he started violently.
In the boyish beauty of Willie’s face he detected a strong likeness to his wife.
“Your name?” he exclaimed.
“Willie Laurens.”
“Are you related to my wife?”
“That is for her to say, Colonel Falconer,” replied the young man modestly.
“But I don’t understand this at all. My wife should be here to accompany me at once. She will miss her train,” exclaimed Colonel Falconer testily.
“I think she expected that, sir,” was the answer he received from Willie, who began to grow nervous as he scrutinized the big, good-looking colonel, wondering what he would say if he knew that the slight youth before him had attempted his wife’s life.
“He would strike me down at his feet in a moment,” he decided nervously, and, in order to ward off all further questions, he said: