had the
easy, interested air of a person of assured position. She evidently
had come to the station in a motor-car which had kept off the sleet,
but had let in the wind--a touring-car, possibly, with top up. Her
fair cheeks were ruddy and her blue eyes bright; her hair, which was
deep brown and abundant, was caught back from her brow, giving her a
more outdoor and boyish look. When Connery first saw her, she seemed
to be accompanying the man who now was behind her; but she offered her
own ticket for perusal at the gate, and as soon as she was through, she
hurried on ahead alone.

Whether or not she had come from the Japanese boat, Connery could not
tell; her ticket, at least, disclaimed for her any connection with the
foreign baggage-labels, for it was merely the ordinary form calling for
transportation from Seattle to Chicago. Connery was certain he did not
know her. He noticed that old Sammy had held her at the gate as long
as possible, as if hoping to recollect who she might be; but now that
she was gone, the gateman gave his attention more closely to the first
man--a tall, strongly built man, neither heavy nor light, and with a
powerful patrician face. His hair and his mustache, which was clipped
short and did not conceal his good mouth, were dark; his brows were
black and distinct, but not bushy or unpleasantly thick; his eyes were
hidden by smoked glasses such as one wears against a glare of snow.

"Chicago?" old Sammy questioned. Connery knew that it was to draw the
voice in reply; but the man barely nodded, took back his ticket--which
also was the ordinary form of transportation from Seattle to
Chicago--and strode on to the train. Connery found his gaze following
this man; the conductor did not know him, nor had old Sammy recognized
him; but both were trying to place him. He, unquestionably, was a man
to be known, though not more so than many who traveled in the
transcontinental trains.

A trim, self-assured man of thirty--his open overcoat showed a cutaway
underneath--came past next, proffering the plain Seattle-Chicago ticket.

An Englishman, with red-veined cheeks, fumbling, clumsy fingers and
curious, interested eyes, immediately followed. To him, plainly, the
majority of the baggage on the trucks belonged; he had "booked" the
train at Hong Kong and seemed pleasantly surprised that his tourist
ticket was instantly accepted. The name upon the strip, "Henry
Standish," corresponded with the "H.