"This is the very worst road I've ever travelled over--the very
worst," was Eleanor's natural complaint. "When will that get us to
Omegon?"

"We should be there in an hour after leaving here."

"And when did you say we'd leave here?"

"I didn't say. I don't know."

"Who does know, if you don't?" demanded Eleanor.

"God, I presume," observed the harassed conductor, turning away with
the realisation that he had erred in coming to her in the first place.
The porter returned at that moment.

"Nobody in that section, ma'am. It was sold, but the party didn't show
up."

"Good Heavens, you--but he DID show up. I--I know he did. Look again.
Try--but wait! Ask for Mr. Dauntless. Ask quietly, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her nerves at highest tension, Miss Thursdale made her way toward the
rear platform of the train. She passed down the curtained aisles of
two coaches, wondering how people could sleep so soundly in a crisis
like this. A porter politely opened a door and she slipped out upon
the last platform. As far as the eye could reach stretched the roadbed