“Then Mr. Britling doesn’t know his part yet and might get poor me into awful difficulties. No, we must get out of this car.”
“Stamford the next stop,” said the porter, who had overheard in passing.
“Can you put us into another car?” Darcy asked him.
“Farther away from the restaurant car,” added her companion, and she thanked him with a glance for his shrewdness. If they were between the “Chorea” and the diner, her friends would pass them at luncheon-time.
“Dey’s a obsehvation cah, reah cah,” suggested the porter. “No extra chahge.”
Darcy immediately rewarded him with a dollar. “If any one inquires about us,” she said, “tell them that we got off at New Haven.”
“Yassum. What name please, maddum?”
“No name. The lady and gentleman in 14 and 16.”
Fortune had left vacant for their coming a semi-retired alcove in the observation car. Therein ensconced, they took breath and thought and stock of each other.
“Now, if you don’t mind,” said the man. “Who am I?”