"In five minutes, sir, the carriage will be at the door. I have your coat and hat here."
The servants in the hall stood respectfully aside to let him pass. On the way to the depot he saw nothing of those who saluted him. In the car he sat with folded arms in the most retired seat, looking steadfastly out of the window at the dying day. There were mountains away westwards, touched with golden light; sometimes for long minutes together the train was rushing through forests whose darkness was like that of a tunnel. Mr. Sabin seemed indifferent to these changes. The coming of night did not disturb him. His brain was at work, and the things which he saw were hidden from other men.
Duson, with a murmur of apology, broke in upon his meditations.
"You will pardon me, sir, but the second dinner is now being served. The restaurant car will be detached at the next stop."
"I have taken the liberty of ordering dinner for you, sir. It is thirty hours since you ate anything save biscuits."
"You are quite right, Duson," he said. "I will dine."
In half-an-hour he was back again. Duson placed before him silently a box of cigarettes and matches. Mr. Sabin smoked.
Soon the lights of the great city flared in the sky, the train stopped more frequently, the express men and newspaper boys came into evidence. Mr. Sabin awoke from his long spell of thought. He bought a newspaper, and glanced through the list of steamers which had sailed during the week. When the train glided into the depot he was on his feet and ready to leave it.
"You will reserve our rooms, Duson, for one month," he said on the way to the hotel. "We shall probably leave for Europe a month to-morrow."
"You were Mrs. Peterson's servant, Duson, before you were mine!"
"You have been with her, I believe, for many years. You are doubtless much attached to her!"
"You may have surmised, Duson, that she has left me. I desire to ensure your absolute fidelity, so I take you into my confidence to this extent. Your mistress is in the hands of those who have some power over her. Her absence is involuntary so far as she is concerned. It has been a great blow to me. I am prepared to run all risks to discover her whereabouts. It is late in my life for adventures, but it is very certain that adventures and dangers are before us. In accompanying me you will associate yourself with many risks. Therefore--"