She turned abruptly. In the white glare of the electric lights she did not at first recognize the man who had spoken to her. Then she drew back. Her heart beat wildly. For she had distinguished the face of Jacob Delafield.
He came forward to meet her as she passed the barrier at the end of the platform, his aspect full of what seemed to her an extraordinary animation, significance, as though she were expected.
"Miss Le Breton! What an astonishing, what a fortunate meeting! I have a message for you from Evelyn."
"From Evelyn?" She echoed the words mechanically as she shook hands.
"Wait a moment," he said, leading her aside towards the waiting-room, while the crowd that was going to the douane passed them by. Then he turned to Julie's porter.
"Attendez un instant."
The man sulkily shook his head, dropped Julie's bag at their feet, and hurried off in search of a more lucrative job.
"I am going back to-night," added Delafield, hurriedly. "How strange that I should have met you, for I have very sad news for you! Lord Lackington had an attack this morning, from which he cannot recover. The doctors give him perhaps forty-eight hours. He has asked for you--urgently. The Duchess tells me so in a long telegram I had from her to-day. But she supposed you to be in Bruges. She has wired there. You will go back, will you not?"
"Go back?" said Julie, staring at him helplessly. "Go back to-night?"
"The evening train starts in little more than an hour. You would be just in time, I think, to see the old man alive."