slowly throbbing in that exquisite, immaculate throat. …
He would have given worlds to be able to try and comfort her. But with all those abominable people
No matter, the longest afternoon must have its evening; an hour or so more and they would be in Portland, surrounded by all the conveniences and safeguards of civilization, free at last to draw breath of ease in the land of law, order, and sane living.
The train had paused at the last hill station. Then as the trucks groaned and moved anew, a lout of a boy came galloping down the aisle, brandishing two yellow envelopes and blatting like a brazen calf.
"Mista' Lawr! Mista' Lawr! Tel'grams for Mista' Lawr!"
Alan snatched the envelopes, tipped the boy, and hoped to heaven he might break his sunburned neck as he tumbled off the rear steps.
He had been expecting a reply to his wire for reservations on the night express from Portland to New York. But why two envelopes superscribed "Mr. A. Law, Kineo train southbound, Oakland Sta?"
He tore one open, and grunted disgust with its curt advice; opened the other and caught his breath as he withdrew—part way only—a playing card—a Trey of Hearts.
Thrusting it back, he tore both envelopes into a
