While the lady so resolved the gentleman--unconscious of her resolution--waited for her on the doorstep. As he waited he saw, advancing towards the house on a bicycle, a telegraph boy. Some instinct induced him to leave that doorstep and move to meet him.
"Got a telegram for me--Nash?"
"Nash? Yes, sir." The boy jumped off; he produced the familiar yellow envelope. "Herbert Nash."
"That's for me; that's all right. Wait while I see if there's an answer." He tore the envelope open; this was the message it contained: "Coming by the train due 12.28. You had better meet me at the station alone.--STEPHEN MORGAN." "There is no answer," Mr. Nash informed the boy.
The boy got on his machine and rode away. Mr. Nash read that telegram again, then stuffed it into his jacket pocket, swearing beneath his breath. He looked quite ugly when he swore. He glanced at his watch, as if to make sure about the time, then returned to his place upon the doorstep. He said nothing about the telegram to his wife.
CHAPTER XXVI
[AN OFFER OF FRIENDSHIP]
Mr. Nash was at the station when the 12.28 came in, and alone; it might have been by some sort of coincidence that he happened to be there just then, but Mr. Morgan seemed to take it for granted that he had come to meet him, an inference which Mr. Nash apparently resented. Mr. Morgan came up to him smiling in the most friendly fashion, and with hand held out.
"My dear Nash, how are you?"
There was no smile on Mr. Nash's face, and he ignored the proffered hand.