Nedra | Page 7

or his companion in the adventure. The list was now complete, and
he, assured that there was no danger of recognition, felt the greatest
weight of all lifted from his mind.
He had also considerately inquired into the state of the weather and
learned that it promised well for the voyage. The whole affair was such
a glorious lark, such an original enterprise, that he could scarcely
restrain himself in his exhilaration from confiding in his chance hotel
acquaintances.
Purposely, the night before, he had gone to an hotel where he was
unknown, keeping under cover during the day as much as possible.
According to the prearranged plan, they were to go aboard ship that
evening, as the sailing hour was early in the morning.
He was waiting for her train. Every now and then his glance would
shoot through the throng of people, somewhat apprehensively, as if he
feared, instead of hoped, that some one might be there. This searching
glance was to determine whether there might be any danger of Chicago
or New York acquaintances witnessing the arrival of the person for

whom he waited. Once he recognized a friend and dodged quickly
behind a knot of people, escaping notice. That is why he audibly
muttered:
"Thank Heaven!"
Every nerve was tingling with excitement; an indescribable desire to fly,
to shout, to race down the track to meet the train, swept through him.
His heart almost stopped beating, and he felt that his face was bloodless.
For the twentieth time in the last two hours Ridgeway looked at his
watch and frowningly exclaimed:
"Only five after two! Nearly an hour to wait!"
He sat down for a moment, only to arise the next and walk to the board
announcing the arrival of trains. Almost immediately one pulled into
the station. Perceiving a bystander--one of the sort that always give the
impression of being well-informed--he inquired casually where it was
from.
"Chicago," was the ready answer.
"Great Scott! Lucky I came early! Grace's idea of time--oh, well, only
the small matter of an hour out of the way."
Quickly he sprang forward, taking up a good position to watch. First
came a man hurriedly and alone. A bunch of people followed him.
Hugh peered unsuccessfully here and there among them. Another
bunch; she was not in it, and he began to feel a trifle nervous. Now
came the stragglers and he grew bewildered. Finally, the last one--a
woman hove in sight. With renewed hope he scanned her approach. It
was not Grace! His brain was in a whirl. What could have happened?
Where was she? Again he jerked out the telegram.
"Meet me Forty-second Street, New York, at three," he read half-aloud.
"Nothing could be plainer," he mused in perplexity. "No train at three;
another at--she must be on a later one."

"What time is the next Chicago train due?" he inquired anxiously at the
Information Bureau.
"Five-thirty, sir," politely answered the official.
"Five-thirty!" he repeated disgustedly.
Again the telegram was brought out and this time shown.
"On what road did you expect the lady?" was the question put with
well-simulated interest that every few minutes was practised on
different individuals.
"Road?" Hugh stared blankly at his questioner. "What road?" Then, like
a flash, the solution of the problem pierced his brain.
"What an ass I am!" he burst out, and added sheepishly: "West Shore!"
Purposely avoiding the other's face for confirmation of his
self-depreciatory exclamation, together with its unmistakable
expression of professional tolerance for the imbecilities of mankind,
Hugh looked at the time. It was two-thirty. Tearing out of the station,
he hailed a cab.
Inside, and moving fast, he winced a little as he thought of his late
strictures on girls and their ways. What a shame to have abused Grace,
when he himself had told her to take the Wabash as essential to their
plan. What a blooming idiot he was! New York in the telegram meant,
of course, the New York side of the river. He recovered his equanimity;
the world was serene again.
With a sharp pull the cabman brought up at the ferry and Hugh took his
stand among those waiting for the boat to disgorge its load of
passengers.
At that moment a thought struck him, and acting on it, he called out:
"Hi! porter!"

"Here, sir!"
"Where can I get some note paper?"
"All right, sir!" and in an instant a pad of paper was forthcoming.
Hugh took out his pencil and wrote a brief note. Then, in a low voice,
he said:
"Here, porter! I want you to do something for me."
"Yes, sir!"
"I'll make it worth your while, but I won't hare you attending to any one
else--understand?"
The porter demonstrated with a nod his perfect comprehension of what
was required,