He did not help his friend in painting the town red. Instead he went directly to the Pennsylvania station and got full details of all trains arriving from the West. He found that Marguerite's train was due to arrive late that evening. He begged off from going with his friend longer than to dinner, and went straight back to the station where he made himself well acquainted with the various exits of the train, and found the best place to watch and await her.
It had not been hard to discover just where the train would come in, and he had established himself behind the great iron bars just above the train floor, where he could look down upon the disembarking passengers without being seen by them unless they deliberately turned around and looked up, but near enough to the train gate to get to her at once if he should see she was in any need of a friend, or was at all hesitant which way to turn.
During the long day, he had had full opportunity to plan what he would say when he met her. He would tell how he had called at the house for her list, and Mary had said she had gone to New York on the midnight train. So when he was invited to fly with his friend to the same city, he thought he would meet her train and ask her about the list, in case he went back the next day. That was a perfectly reasonable story as well as being absolutely true, for his friend had many times invited him to fly, and had told him to call him when he could go.
Nevertheless he wished to reconnoiter before he approached her. It was even conceivable that that Keller person might have somehow got in touch with her, and be traveling with her. His blood boiled at the thought, and he stood for twenty long minutes till the train arrived, thinking over what he should do if that were the case. He decided that he would in any event go to the gate and speak to Marguerite. It might even be that a face from home might influence her, hinder her, from any foolish thing she might be going to do. At least he would ask where she was staying, and perhaps let her know that her mother was on the way, just casually, as if of course she knew it.
He would be able to judge a great deal from the way she took what he said.
In the mean time, while he mused, in not a little anxiety, forgetting for the moment his Guide, the train came in. The stream of people like ants, came filing up the iron stairs to the gateways, and not one of them escaped the anxious eye of Nelson Whitney, as he stood in his sheltered nook behind a bunch of train flags and gate signs and waited.
But Marguerite did not appear.
She did not even come up in the elevator, which was in full view from his position. He was sure he had not missed her, yet a frenzy of anxiety seized him. Perhaps she had seen him and had evaded him while he was looking the other way!
Where was Marguerite?