peremptorily from his environment. His principal interest lay now in
casual glimpses of windows and speculation as to what was behind them.
He varied this employment in a passing endeavor to decipher sundry signs
that obtruded incidentally within range of vision.

He had made out only a few when the, train slackened and came to a
standstill. Mr. Heatherbloom told himself he would get off as quickly as
possible; then changed his mind and remained. People would, of course,
argue that, under the circumstances, the unknown criminal would be
among those to leave the train at the first opportunity.

A number got out; Mr. Heatherbloom noted the passengers who remained
aboard and watched closely the departing ones. A few of the latter
seemed slightly self-conscious, notably, an elderly spinster who, having
never done anything wrong, was possessed of an unusual sensitiveness.

"See that slouchy chap--By jove, I believe--"

"Does look like a tough customer--"

"On the contrary, he just looks poor." Mr. Heatherbloom turned upon the
two speakers warmly.

Why could he not have kept silent; why was he obliged to obtrude his
opinion into their conversation?

They stared and he half turned as the train banged itself along once
more. Where should he go? Reaching for a paper that some one had
discarded, he sank into a vacant seat and opened the sheet with
misgiving.

What would the big types say? Nothing! Miss Van Rolsen had managed to
keep the strange affair of her niece's disappearance out of the columns
of the papers. They knew nothing about it as yet--Only a single little
item in the shipping news, in fine print, which suddenly caught his gaze
bore in any way, and that a remote one, upon her niece and her affairs.
Mr. Heatherbloom regarded it with dull glance. The few lines meant
nothing to him--then; later he had cause to turn to them with abrupt
wondering avidity. Now his eyes swept with simulated interest the
general news of the day; he professed to read cable dispatches.

But an odd reaction seemed to have settled on him; the excitement of the
chase became, for the moment, forgotten. The scope of his mental
visuality no longer included the figure of the agent from the private
detective bureau. An anxiety more poignant moved him; his thoughts
centered on that other matter--the cause of Miss Van Rolsen's
apprehensions--the while those emotions that had held him a listener
behind the curtain in her library again stirred in