“To our man at Sicamous,” he explained. “He must meet that train. When we get to the depot, will you jam that into the telegraph office? I’ll dive for the station master an’ arrange for accommodation, an’ hold the train if necessary. Phew! we’re cutting it fine.”
They were. They heard the train pull in and stop before they could see it. They saw the guards preparing to send the train away as they drew up, braking perilously beside the low platform. Clement sprang to the telegraph office without a word. Gatineau seemed to be half-way along the platform in the direction of the station master before their automobile had really stopped.
The handing in of the wire took no more than a few seconds, but short though that time was, Gatineau was already beckoning him to the rear car when Clement appeared.
“Luck all the way,” said Gatineau. “Section superintendent’s private car hitched on to this train. This is it.... He’ll be here in a minute——”
He got no further. Clement suddenly caught his arm. “My God!” he gasped. “Look there—those women.”
Two women stood by the edge of the platform watching their suitcases being put into an automobile.
It was dark, but the two well-dressed figures could plainly be seen in the light of an arc lamp. One was a comely, chilly, thick-set, middle-aged woman—the Gorgon, Méduse Smythe. The other—Heloise.
No mistaking that slim, upstanding, gallantly poised figure. Even there in the darkness and newly arrived on a strange railway platform, she carried herself with a crispness, an air of daintiness, a grace of candid beauty. No mistaking her at all—and no mistaking the curious and quite sharp thrill that went through his own being as he looked at her.
“Miss Reys?” asked Gatineau in a sharp whisper.
“Yes—and that she-scoundrel, her companion. They’ve arrived. Of course, I should have remembered this would be their train.”