The Mystery of Mary

The Mystery of Mary, by Grace Livingston Hill

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Title: The Mystery of Mary
Author: Grace Livingston Hill
Release Date: January 7, 2005 [EBook #14632] [Date last updated: January 15, 2005]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE MYSTERY OF MARY
BY GRACE LIVINGSTON HILL LUTZ
AUTHOR OF
MARCIA SCHUYLER, PHOEBE DEANE, ETC.
FRONTISPIECE BY
ANNA W. SPEAKMAN
[Illustration]
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS NEW YORK
* * * * *
Made in the United States of America
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY J.B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

THE MYSTERY OF MARY
[Illustration: THEY STRUGGLED UP, SCARCELY PAUSING FOR BREATH Page 8]

The Mystery of Mary

I
He paused on the platform and glanced at his watch. The train on which he had just arrived was late. It hurried away from the station, and was swallowed up in the blackness of the tunnel, as if it knew its own shortcomings and wished to make up for them.
It was five minutes of six, and as the young man looked back at the long flight of steps that led to the bridge across the tracks, a delicate pencilling of electric light flashed into outline against the city's deepening dusk, emphasizing the lateness of the hour. He had a dinner engagement at seven, and it was yet some distance to his home, where a rapid toilet must be made if he were to arrive on time.
The stairway was long, and there were many people thronging it. A shorter cut led down along the tracks under the bridge, and up the grassy embankment. It would bring him a whole block nearer home, and a line of cabs was standing over at the corner just above the bridge. It was against the rules to walk beside the tracks--there was a large sign to that effect in front of him--but it would save five minutes. He scanned the platform hastily to see if any officials were in sight, then bolted down the darkening tracks.
Under the centre of the bridge a slight noise behind him, as of soft, hurrying footsteps, caught his attention, and a woman's voice broke upon his startled senses.
"Please don't stop, nor look around," it said, and the owner caught up with him now in the shadow. "But will you kindly let me walk beside you for a moment, till you can show me how to get out of this dreadful place? I am very much frightened, and I'm afraid I shall be followed. Will you tell me where I can go to hide?"
After an instant's astonished pause, he obeyed her and kept on, making room for her to walk beside him, while he took the place next to the tracks. He was aware, too, of the low rumble of a train, coming from the mouth of the tunnel.
His companion had gasped for breath, but began again in a tone of apology:
"I saw you were a gentleman, and I didn't know what to do. I thought you would help me to get somewhere quickly."
Just then the fiery eye of the oncoming train burst from the tunnel ahead. Instinctively, the young man caught his companion's arm and drew her forward to the embankment beyond the bridge, holding her, startled and trembling, as the screaming train tore past them.
The pent black smoke from the tunnel rolled in a thick cloud about them, stifling them. The girl, dazed with the roar and blinded by the smoke, could only cling to her protector. For an instant they felt as if they were about to be drawn into the awful power of the rushing monster. Then it had passed, and a roar of silence followed, as if they were suddenly plunged into a vacuum. Gradually the noises of the world began again: the rumble of a trolley-car on the bridge; the "honk-honk" of an automobile; the cry of a newsboy. Slowly their breath and their senses came back.
The man's first thought was to get out of the cut before another train should come. He grasped his companion's arm and started up the steep embankment, realizing as he did so that the wrist he held was slender, and that the sleeve which covered it was of the finest cloth.
They struggled up, scarcely pausing for breath. The steps at the side of the bridge, made for the convenience of railroad hands, were out of the question, for they were at a dizzy height, and hung unevenly over the yawning pit where trains shot constantly back and