"
"Do you know how long ago that was?"
He shook his head.
"It was a long while. There has been no light, so I could not count
the days, but, if they have fed me twice every twenty-hours, it is
certainly a month since I came."
"A month! Do you recall the name of the man you were conversing with
on the observation car?"
He pressed his hand against his forehead, a wrinkle appearing straight
between his eyes.
"I've tried to remember that," he admitted regretfully, "but it doesn't
quite come to me."
"Was it Beaton?"
"Yes. Why, how strange! Of course, he was Edward Beaton, of New York.
He told me he was a broker. Why, how did you know?"
She hesitated for an instant, uncertain just how far it was best to
confide in him. Unquestionably, the man's mind was not entirely clear,
and he might say and do things to the injury of them both if he once
became aware of the whole truth. Besides, the meeting him there alive
was in itself a shock. She had firmly believed him dead--murdered in
New York. No, she would keep that part of the story to herself for the
present; let it be told to him later by others.
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