me discomfort. It was almost five when, like three Ganymedes
uplifted by the talons of a fierce, bright bird, they soared with Madame
von Marwitz towards Truro, and at Truro, in spite of a reckless speed
which desperately dishevelled their hair and hats, they arrived too late
to catch the 6.40 train for Exeter.

Madame von Marwitz strode majestically along the platform, her white
cloak trailing in the dust, called for station-masters, demanded special
trains, fixed haughty, uncomprehending eyes upon the officials who
informed her that she could not possibly get a train until ten, resigned
herself, with sundry exclamations of indignation and stamps of the foot,
to the tedious wait, sailed into the refreshment room only to sail out
again, mounted the car not yet dismissed, bore the Slifers to a hotel
where they had a dinner over which she murmured at intervals "_Bon Dieu,
est-ce-donc possible!_" and then, in the chill, dark evening, toured
about in the adjacent country until ten, when Burton was sent back to
Les Solitudes and when they all got into the train for Exeter.

She had never in all her life travelled alone before. She hardly knew
how to procure her ticket, and her helplessness in regard to box and
dressing-case was so apparent that Mrs. Slifer saw to the one and Maude
carried the other, together with the fur-lined coat when this was thrown
aside.

The hours that they passed with her in the train were the strangest that
the Slifers had ever passed. They were chilled, they were sleepy, they
were utterly exhausted; but they kept their eyes fixed on the
perplexing, resplendent object that upbore them.

Beatrice, it is true, showed by degrees, a slight sulkiness. She had not
liked it when, at Truro, Madame von Marwitz had supervised their wires
to the Jones, and she liked it less when Madame von Marwitz explained to
them in the train that she relied upon them not to let the Jones--or
anybody for the present--know anything about Mrs. Jardine. Something in
Madame von Marwitz's low-toned and richly murmured confidences as she
told Maude and Mrs. Slifer that it was important for Mrs. Jardine's
peace of mind, and for her very sanity, that her dreaded husband should
not hear of her whereabouts, made Beatrice, as she expressed it to
herself, "tired."

She looked out of the window while her mother and sister murmured, "Why
certainly, Baroness; why yes; we perfectly understand," leaning forward
in the illuminated carriag