“I’m going,” the girl replied. “But isn’t he like Valentine, Evey?”
She moved away, however, without waiting for a reply.
The rest of the journey passed without incident. She spent the time in taking herself to task for having again lapsed into her ordinary tone to Evelyn, too confident of not being overheard, and in mentally drilling herself for the future.
“It was all Solomon’s fault,” she said to herself, “both just now and in the other train. I do hope he and his master are safely off in a different direction. But even if they are in the train, there is no reason why they should be going on to Wyverston station. I shall look out every time we stop on the chance of seeing: them.”
She had plenty of opportunities for so doing. Never had a train gone on its way more deliberately, or come to a standstill more frequently. But on none of the small platforms alongside of which they drew up did Philippa perceive the pair of travellers for whom she was on the outlook. Her hopes began to rise.
“I really think,” she said to herself, “that they can’t have come by this train. I daresay I am silly, but the very idea of that man’s being in the neighbourhood makes me nervous. I am so certain he was curious about me.”
This satisfaction at her fellow-travellers’ disappearance proved, however, premature. A station or two before that of the sisters’ destination, lo and behold! on a deserted-looking roadside platform, there stood, having evidently just emerged from the train, the dachshund and his master!
Quick as thought, Philippa, who had been glancing out half carelessly, drew back, retiring to the farther end of her solitary compartment. It might have been fancy, but she felt certain that Solomon was looking out for her. There was an indescribable air of alertness about him, even his long nose was elevated, and one of his pendent ears unmistakably cocked. Philippa felt almost guilty.
“Poor darling,” she thought, “I hate disappointing him, but I dare not risk it. I devoutly hope the pair are not in the habit of country strolls anywhere near Wyverston, for we can’t be far from there now.”
But in what direction they bent their steps, or whether any conveyance was waiting for them, she had no means of discovering. Before the train slowly moved on again they must have left the station; no trace of them remained, not even a little heap of luggage awaiting deliberate removal by a country porter.