ed up; then, on a sudden impulse,
stopped his car at the platform with sharp precision and entered the
tiny waiting-room. From the ticket window a pretty girl looked out on
him with the expression of sudden interest feminine eyes usually took on
when this young man was directly in their line of vision. With uncovered
curly head deferentially bent, he addressed her. Had she happened to
notice a dark limousine go by an hour or so before, say around half-past
eight or nine o'clock? The girl shook her head. She had not come on
duty until nine, and even if such a car had passed she would hardly have
observed it, owing to the frequency of the phenomenon and her own
exacting responsibilities.

Laurie admitted that these responsibilities would claim all the
attention of any mind. But was there any one around who might have seen
the car, any one, say, who made a specialty of lounging on the platform
and watching the pulsations of the town's life in this its throbbing
center? No, the girl explained, there were no station loafers around
now. The summer was the time for them.

Then perhaps she could tell him if there were any nice old houses for
rent near Sea Cliff, nice old houses, say, overlooking the Sound, and a
little out of the town? Laurie's newly acquired will power was proving
its strength. With every frantic impulse in him crying for action, for
knowledge, for relief from the intolerable tension he was under, he
presented to the girl the suave appearance of a youth at peace with
himself and the hour.

The abrupt transitions of the gentleman's interest seemed to surprise
the lady. She looked at him with a suspicion which perished under the
expression in his brilliant eyes. What he meant, Laurie soberly
explained, was the kind of house that might appeal to a casual tourist
who was passing through, and who had dropped into the station and there
had suddenly realized the extreme beauty of Sea Cliff. The girl
laughed. She was a nice girl, he decided, and he smiled back at her; for
now she was becoming helpful.

Yes, there was the Varick place, a mile out and right on the water's
edge. And there was the old Kiehl place, also on the Sound. These were
close together and both for rent, she had heard. Also, there was a house
in the opposite direction, and on the water's edge. She did not know the
name of that house, but she had observed a "To Let" sign on it last
Sunday, when she was out driving. Those were all the houses she k