Duskin (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill

had thought of the moon as going, too. And now here was the moon, looking down upon her! It gave her a less lonely feeling, as if the moon were taking a kindly interest no matter where she was. Going with her to cheer her even if she couldn’t go to the seashore.

      But she must get down to work and think out a plan for her interview with that young Fawcett. The better she knew her part the sooner she could conclude it and hurry on to the other part of her journey.

      So she got out pencil and notebook and began to jot down several points that Mr. Fawcett had emphasized in those few minutes of discussion the doctor had allowed them.

      She had worked away for fifteen minutes on this and had resorted once more to staring out into the darkness, when suddenly she heard a voice just behind her ear which startled her with an unpleasant memory.

      “Well, I guess this is our stall, isn’t it? Number ten, that’s what the ticket says,” the voice shouted above the monotonous babble of the train.

      Two figures suddenly towered over her; one reached across her and thumped a big suitcase and a bag heavily under the seat beside her shiny hatbox and Mr. Fawcett’s briefcase. Then they sat down together on the seat opposite and eyed her with open satisfaction.

      It was inevitable that she should look up and face them for an instant as she moved to make room for their feet. When she saw them at close range her soul was filled with dismay. They were the two men who had sat in the outer office early in the afternoon and carried on that terrible conversation, her notes of which were at that instant reposing in the briefcase.

      The tall one was chewing a toothpick and studying her face with cunning interest. The stout one was sitting opposite her, his fingers caressing fondly a couple of fat black cigars in his vest pocket. He seemed to be about to speak to her familiarly.

      She shrank away from his stout knees in their checked trousers as if he had been a leopard, and quickly turned her gaze out of the window once more. Her heart was beating wildly, and dismay had seized her. Could it be possible that these two men had to share that compartment with her all the way to Chicago? Would she have to stand that? She hated, actually loathed, these two men, with their iniquitous hearts and their dirty tongues and their intimate glances. She had enough evidence in that briefcase to put them both in jail. Could it be possible that they had recognized her as from the office, or were their glances merely curious and impudent?

      Her mother’s words at parting came suddenly to mind.

      “You are so good looking, Carol going among a lot of strange men!” She almost shuddered visibly. Why were mothers always so far-seeing? Why did everything they prophesied always come true somehow? And these were men whom she had good cause to fear!

      Well, she had boasted that she was able to take care of herself. She had said the time had come for her to be on her own, and she must prove the truth of her words. She must handle this situation discreetly. She must keep herself from looking shaken. She must not let her lips tremble as she felt they were doing this minute.

      She pressed her fingers hard against them and stared up at the moon. She could feel the steady stares of the two men, and it seemed as if she were a little, helpless bird with a cat below her bough trying to charm her into falling into its claws! Each instant her situation seemed more impossible, and the state of her weary nerves did not serve to help her think what to do.

      When she tried to imagine rising and taking a steady course down the aisle and out the end of the car that led toward the day coaches there seemed to be no strength in her muscles. Then there was her baggage. She could not leave that behind, and how could she ever get it from behind the big suitcase and bag? Her feet seemed like water. Her hands were cold and trembling. It was ridiculous, she told herself; she was tired and overwrought. But the next instant she shivered at the very rustle of her soft silk traveling dress.

      And so she sat motionless, her slender figure shrinking into its corner, and her face turned out of the window, looking up at the kindly moon. If only the moon were a person to whom she could call for help!

      She began to see with sudden vision how much more there was to fear than just two unpleasant strangers thrust in her car for the night. How much, for instance, did they know about her and her errand? Could they possibly have recognized her? And just what relation did they bear anyway to the whole situation?

      A moment more and she remembered that elevator and the two backs, a tall one and a short one, that she had seen at the far end of the big office room. Could it be possible they had hung around hoping to see Mr. Fawcett or someone who could represent him? Could it be possible they had overheard anything as she telephoned?

      Wait! Had they perhaps been in that little back hallway behind her inner office when she had called Western Union and sent that telegram to young Fawcett in Chicago, not only giving him the number of the train she was to take but the number of her car and section!

      Certain words and phrases which she had taken down as the two men talked in the outer office suddenly flashed across her memory, filling her anew with terror.

      The far door of the car opened and slammed shut again, and Carol lifted her eyes eagerly. It was the Pullman conductor, going swiftly, efficiently, from section to section, collecting the tickets and putting them in a long, fat envelope he carried.

      Instantly she was on her feet. She stepped over the lank, crossed feet of the tall man who sat on the end of the seat and flew down the aisle.

      If her mother could have seen the glow in her frightened face and the sweetness of her troubled eyes as she stopped by that gruff conductor and addressed him bravely, she would have said again, “Carol, you are so beautiful too beautiful to go among a lot of strange men!”

      “Wouldn’t it be possible for me to have a whole section?” she asked earnestly, a wistfulness in her eyes that was not easy to resist. She was utterly unaware how charming she was, and how sweet her frightened voice became as she made her plea.

      But the conductor did not look up.

      “Every section taken, lady. Not even an upper berth.”

      Carol’s heart began to fail her. She dared not turn back to see if the two men were watching her; but she was sure they were the kind who would.

      “Oh,” she said weakly, her hand slipping up to her throat as if something fluttered there, “isn’t there couldn’t I perhaps change with someone and go where there is a woman? I would be willing to take an upper berth.”

      The conductor whirled upon her and took her measure with his eye. Perhaps he had a daughter of his own. He gave a keen glance down the aisle at the tall man and the fat man leering after her and looked at the girl again.

      “Nothing left but the drawing room, lady,” he said gruffly, doubtfully.

      “Oh, can I have the drawing room?” she exclaimed eagerly.

      “Costs a lot more,” said the conductor, regretfully giving her his respectful attention.

      “Oh, that will be all right!” said Carol with a great sigh of relief. “How much is it? Can I go there now?”

      With utter relief she paid the extra amount and went in search of the porter to get her bag and briefcase, a new anxiety attacking her now. Perhaps those men were waiting to get hold of Mr. Fawcett’s briefcase! Perhaps they had been watching her when she put those letters and papers from the safe into it before she left. She eyed them from the shelter of the drawing room doorway until the porter had reclaimed her baggage and started back to her. But she kept out of sight as she saw the two men turn their heads curiously and gaze after him. At least they should not have again the satisfaction of looking at her. She felt as if somehow their glances had been defiling, and she would like to wash them from her face.

      The porter and conductor gone at last, she turned with thanksgiving in her heart and saw that her berth was already made up! How good that was. Now she might lock herself into this little retreat and lie down at last to rest after the terrible strain of the day! She slipped the bolt with satisfaction. How wonderful it was that she had secured this spot all to herself,