"--with you," he said. "But I still do not see what I can do, however
much I may wish to serve you."
"Can't you go to him and insist that he--or tell him what I really
feel toward him--or anything, in fact, to shame him? I really can't go
on acting longer."
That reached the limit of my endurance, and I crawled from my burrow,
intending to get out from under that platform, whether I was caught or
not. I know it was a foolish move; after having heard what I had, a
little more or less was quite immaterial. But I entirely forgot my
danger, in the sting of what Madge had said, and my one thought was to
stand face to face with her long enough to--I'm sure I don't know what
I intended to say.
Just as I reached the plank, however, I heard Lord Ralles ask--
"Who's that?"
"It's me," said a voice,--"the station agent." Then I heard a
door close. Some one walked out to the centre of the platform and
remarked--
"That 'ere way freight is late."
At least the letters were recovered.
CHAPTER XV
THE SURRENDER OF THE LETTERS
If the letters were safe, that was a good deal more than I was. The
moment the station-master had made his agreed-upon announcement, he
said to the walkers--
"Had any news of Mr. Gordon?"
"No," replied Lord Ralles. "And, as the lights keep moving in the
town, they must still be hunting for him."
"I reckon they'll do considerable more huntin' before they find him up
there," chuckled the man, with a self-important manner.
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