When they had alighted in front of the edifice in question, and had divested themselves of their wraps, the car drove off--possibly to fetch the "governor" from the races. The girl turned on her companion with flashing eyes.
"Why did you tell that policeman such a lie?" Nothing could have been better done than Mr Frazer's air of deprecation.
"Did I tell him a lie? I was not aware of it."
"You as good as told him a lie; you prevaricated--you meant to deceive him, and you did. If I hadn't been such a contemptible coward I should have jumped up and told him the truth--that it was me he was looking for. I believe that every policeman is looking for me everywhere--I feel sure they are. Every fresh lie you tell to screen me makes me feel more ashamed--especially as I know they're certain to find me in the end. There's a policeman over there; I'll go and tell him who I am--now!--and then at least you need tell no more falsehoods for me."
Fortunately, Mr Frazer seemed to think, as he looked about him, there was no one within earshot to notice her wild words and manner, and the constable to whom she referred was some little distance off, on the other side of the way, with his back towards them. He laid his hand upon her arm, speaking with that matter-of-fact coolness which the girl seemed to find herself powerless to resist.
"I shouldn't do that, just now, especially as a train will soon be starting which I am rather anxious to catch. Let's get into this cab, and see if we can't catch it."
Feeling as if she were doing none of these things of her own volition--which, indeed, was the case--the girl suffered him to hand her into it. Presently she found herself entering a railway station at his side; then, a little later, seated alone with him in a first-class compartment--a passenger in a train for the second time in her life. The rate at which it moved; the noise it made; the occasional oscillation; the strangeness of it all--served to increase her mental confusion. She caught herself wondering, with what seemed to be some remote lobe of her brain, if her mind ever would be clear again. He held out towards her a cigar which he had taken from a case.
"May I smoke?" She said yes; and he did, talking as he smoked, in that clear, gentle, musical voice, which made itself audible above the roar of the train, affecting her as nothing had ever done before.
"This is an express, which runs through to town without a stop; we are lucky to have caught it. You look tired."
"I am; I don't know why: I have done nothing; but I feel as if I shall never again be anything but tired."