Margie steadied
her voice, and spoke carelessly enough.
"Florine, I have been obliged to leave home very suddenly. My
preparations are all complete. I thought I would not wake you as I
had so little to do. Tell Peter to have the carriage at the door at six
precisely, and bring up Leo's breakfast, and a cup of hot coffee for me."
At six o'clock--having written a note to Mr. Farley, and one to her aunt,
giving no explanations, but merely saying she had been called away--she
put on her bonnet, entered the carriage and was driven to the depot. And
before nine-tenths of New York had thought of leaving their beds, she was
being whirled rapidly northward, her only companion Leo, who, watchful
and alert, lay curled up on the seat beside her.
* * * * *
Archer Trevlyn had not slept that night. Some sense of impending evil,
some demon of uneasiness oppressed him strangely. He tossed about until
daybreak, then he rose, dressed himself, and went out. Everything was
still on the streets except the clatter of the milk carts, and the early
drays and huckster wagons. The air was damp and dense, and struck a
deadly chill to the very marrow of this unseasonable wanderer. He walked
a few squares, and then returned to his hotel, more oppressed than when
he went out.
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