"Where's my $2?" asked No. 99, and Aronson had to pay him this sum, as well as an advance fare for the ride back, before he would turn his horse's head. Going in town, the animal made up for time gained by a heartbreaking leisureliness of pace. No one could blame the poor hack horse. There had been some attempt to make him look respectable by docking his tail, but it was no more successful than a silk hat on a prize-fighter, designed to foster the same illusion.
It was just 5:40 when Aronson reached the Northern depot and the train for Hillsborough had left at 5:38. He had the misery of knowing that Mrs. Arnold was probably well on her way to her summer residence by this time, and that there was no train earlier than 7 o'clock. In the interim he bought a ticket, supped, reflected, counted his money and studied the subpoena.
A village bell was tolling 8 when Aronson stepped from the passenger car out on the platform of the Hillsborough station. They had left the sunset behind them in their eastward ride and the country village was dark.
"I want a carriage to Mrs. Arnold's house," he said to the station-master.
"Hacks are all in now," answered the official behind the grating, turning to his books. But he underrated the persistency of his customer.
"I'll give you $1.50 for a team," said Aronson. The suggestion worked magically and in less than an hour he was let down before the veranda of the Arnold mansion. A ruby porch-light flooded him with a kind of delighted confusion. How mild and solemn the country is at night! How suggestive of grassy comforts the humming of the crickets! All the shepherd that lay deep down in Aronson's nature, as in that of every one of us, even the plainest, had time to show itself in the interval between his ring and the servant's answer.
"Mrs. Arnold is in Woodlawn," answered the housemaid. "Can you leave your business?"
"No, I want to see her personally."
Woodlawn! She had escaped him then. The teamster was waiting and the servant diminishing the aperture of the door to a suspicious crack, while he collected his thoughts.
"How long has she been in Woodlawn?" he asked.