gazed out the window at Newark Bay as if he expected to discover there some trace of her passage. She must have looked out at that water as she went by.
The man in the Panama hat did not disengage himself from his newsapers until the car had almost emptied itself at Plainfield. Then he began to make preparations for his arrival at the next station—which the conductor had announced as “Findellen”—and Barney, watching him, took his own paper up again, to shield himself behind it, in case the man should glance at him in passing.
“Fin-dell'n—Fin-dell'n!”
Barney spread his sheet and hunched his shoulders. The train had stopped before he dared look around; and when he reached the car platform his man had already disappeared in the station.
“This isn ’t Somerville,” the conductor said.
Barney nodded. “ ’S all right. Keep the change.”
He felt cocky. Not only because he
