But the
tragic words "unidentified man" danced before my eyes. Oh! if it
were the Professor....
In a wave the truth burst upon me. I loved that little man: I loved
him, I loved him. He had brought something new into my life, and his
brave, quaint ways had warmed my fat old heart. For the first time,
in an intolerable gush of pain, I seemed to know that my life could
never again be endurable without him. And now--what was I to do?
How could I learn the truth? Certainly if he _had_ been on the
train, and had escaped from the wreck unhurt, he would have sent
a message to Sabine Farm to let me know. At any rate, that was a
possibility. I rushed to the telephone to call up Andrew.
Oh! the agonizing slowness of telephone connections when urgent
hurry is needed! My voice shook as I said "Redfield 158 J" to the
operator. Throbbing with nervousness I waited to hear the familiar
click of the receiver at the other end. I could hear the Redfield
switchboard receive the call, and put in the plug to connect with
our wire.
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