“I hope so, Señor Garfield. I sincerely hope so,” he replied, and we parted for the night.
Next day I woke early and sought my friend. We idled about till nearly noon, when we went together to the railway station to watch the arrival of the train from Toulouse.
A number of people were about, for the dusty lumbering express from Bordeaux to Marseilles had, at that moment, arrived, and considerable bustle ensued in consequence.
While we stood watching the crowd Señor Rivero suddenly touched my arm, and whispered:
“Look yonder! The girl in dark blue! That is Mademoiselle Jacquelot! She must not see me. I wonder why she is here—if not to warn him of the inquiries made concerning him by a stranger!”
I glanced in the direction he had indicated and saw a tall, slim, rather good-looking girl sauntering idly in our direction. Her attention had, for the moment, been diverted by an advertisement upon the wall.
“Quick!” cried my friend. “Let us slip back here.”
And next moment we had repassed the barrier, back into the booking-office.
“If she sees me her suspicions will be aroused—if they are not already aroused,” said my companion. “The fact that she is here gives rise to the question whether she is really so innocent as she pretends. She may know of her lover’s escapades, and suspects me of having followed her out to her home.”