The thing was ridiculous, and yet it was
possible. Beyond that brief line in answer to his letter, he had heard
nothing from Beatrice. Indeed he was waiting to hear from her before
taking any further step. But even supposing she were in London, where
was he to look for her? He knew that she had no money, he could not
stay there long. It occurred to him there was a train leaving Euston for
Wales about four in the morning. It was just possible that she might
be in town, and returning by this train. He told the cabman to drive to
Euston Station, and on arrival, closely questioned a sleepy porter, but
without satisfactory results.
Then he searched the station; there were no traces of Beatrice. He did
more; he sat down, weary as he was, and waited for an hour and a
half, till it was time for the train to start. There were but three
passengers, and none of them in the least resembled Beatrice.
"It is very strange," Geoffrey said to himself, as he walked away. "I
could have sworn that I felt her presence just for one second. It must
have been nonsense. This is what comes of occult influences, and that
kind of thing.
Pages:
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477