She signalled to the
driver to stop, and handed him the book.
"I cannot understand this time-table," she said, in an agitated way.
"Would you find out for me, please, when the next train leaves Victoria
for Horleydene?"
The driver consulted the time-table with a businesslike air.
"The next train leaves at 12.40," he informed her. "After that there
isn't another one stopping there till 4.5."
Mrs. Holymead consulted her watch anxiously.
"It's almost half-past twelve now. Can you catch the 12.40?" she asked.
The driver looked dubious.
"I'll try, ma'am, but it'll take some doing. It depends whether I get a
clear run at Trafalgar Square."
"Try, try!" she cried. "Catch it, and I will double your fare."
She caught the train with a few seconds to spare. She had a first-class
compartment to herself, and as the train rushed out of London, and the
grimy environs of the metropolis gradually gave place to green fields,
she endeavoured to compose her mind and collect her thoughts for her
coming interview with the daughter of the murdered man. But her mind was
in such a distraught condition that she could think of no plan but to
sacrifice herself in order to save her husband.
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