"You will ask her to write."
"Yes, I will do so."
Tristrem took her hand in his. "Tell her from me," he began, but words
failed him, it was his face that completed the message. In a moment more
he was in the coach on his way to the station.
There was a brisk drive along the sea, a curve was rounded, and the
station stood in sight. And just as the turn was made Tristrem caught
the shriek of a whistle.
"There she goes," the negro exclaimed, "you ought to have been spryer."
"Has the train gone?" Tristrem asked.
"Can't you see her? I knew you'd be late." The man was insolent in his
familiarity, but Tristrem did not seem to notice it.
"I would have given much not to be," he said.
At this the negro became a trifle less uncivil. "Would you ree-ly like
to catch that train?" he asked.
"I would indeed."
"Is it worth twenty-five dollars to you?"
Tristrem nodded.
"Well, boss, I tell you. That train stops at Peacedale, and at Wakefield
she shunts off till the mail passes. Like as not the express is late. If
I get you to Kingston before the Newport passes, will you give me
twenty-five?"
"If I make the connection I will give you fifty."
"That's talking. You'll get there, boss. Just lay back and count your
thumbs."
The negro snapped his whip, and soon Tristrem was jolted over one of the
worst and fairest roads of New England, through a country for which
nature has done her best, and where only the legislator is vile. One
hamlet after another was passed, and still the coach rolled on.
"We'll get there," the negro repeated from time to time, and to
encourage his fare he lashed the horses to their utmost speed. Peacedale
was in the distance; Wakefield was passed, and in a cloud of dust they
tore through Kingston and reached the station just as the express
steamed up.
"I told you I'd do it," the negro exclaimed, exultingly. "I'll get
checks for your trunks."
A minute or two more, and the checks were obtained; the negro was
counting a roll of bills, and in a drawing-room car Tristrem was being
whirled to New York.
For several hours he sat looking out at the retreating uplands,
villages, and valleys. But after a while he remembered the scantiness of
his breakfast, and, summoning the porter, he obtained from him some food
and drink. By this time the train had reached New Haven, and there
Tristrem alighted to smoke a cigarette. He was, however, unable to
finish it before the whistle warned him that he should be aboard again.
The porter, who had been gratified by a tip, then told him that there
was a smoking compartment in the car beyond the one in which he had sat,
and, as the train moved on, Tristrem went forward in the direction
indicated.
The compartment was small, with seats for two on one side, and for
three, or for four at most, on the other. As Tristrem entered it he saw
that the larger sofa was occupied by one man, who lay out on it, full
length, his face turned to the partition. Tristrem took a seat opposite
him, and lit a fresh cigarette. As he smoked he looked at the reclining
form of his _vis-à-vis_. About the man's neck a silk handkerchief had
been rolled, but one end had come undone and hung loosely on the
cushion, and as Tristrem looked he noticed that on the neck was a wound,
unhealed and fresh, a line of excoriation, that neither steel nor shot
could have caused, but which might have come from a scratch. But, after
all, what business was it of his? And he turned his attention again to
the retreating uplands and to the villages that starred the route.
When the cigarette was done, he stood up to leave the compartment. But
however quietly he had moved, he seemed to arouse his neighbor, who
turned heavily, as though to change his position. As he did so, Tristrem
saw that it was Royal Weldon, and that on his face was a bruise. He
would have spoken, for Weldon was looking at him, but he recalled the
wanton lie of the week before, and as he hesitated whether to speak or
pass on, Weldon half rose. "Damn you," he said, "you are everywhere."
Then he lay down, turning his face again to the wall, and Tristrem,
without a word, went to the other car and found his former seat.
Two hours later he reached his home. He let himself in with a latch-key,
and rang the bell. But when Harris appeared he knew at once, by the
expression which the butler assumed, that he had come too late.
"When did it happen?" he asked.
"It was last evening, sir; he came in from his drive and inquired for
you, sir. I said that you had gone out of town, and showed him the
address you left. When I went to hannounce dinner, sir, he was sitting
in his arm-chair with his hat on. I thought he was asleep. I sent for
Dr. McMasters, sir, but it was no use. Dr. McMasters said it was the
'art, sir."
"You have notified my grandfather, have you not?"
"Yes, sir, I did, sir; Mr. Van Norden came in this morning, and left
word as how he would like to see you when you got back, sir."
"Very good. Call Davis, and get my things from the cabman."
"Yes, sir; thank you, sir. I beg pardon, sir," he added, "would you wish
some dinner? There's a nice fillet and a savory."