hould think--got out. I collected their
tickets myself, and they all came from the first station on the line.
Well, that's not so strange, for there's a good beer-garden there. But,
curiously enough, every one of them hired a separate cab and drove off,
laughing and shouting to one another as they went. That's how it happens
that there were only one or two cabs left when your train came in, and
they were snapped up at once."

Taken alone, this occurrence was nothing; but I asked myself whether the
conspiracy that had robbed me of my servant had deprived me of a vehicle
also.

"What sort of men were they?" I asked.

"All sorts of men, sir," answered the station-master, "but most of them
were shabby-looking fellows. I wondered where some of them had got the
money for their ride."

The vague feeling of uneasiness which had already attacked me grew
stronger. Although I fought against it, calling myself an old woman
and a coward, I must confess to an impulse which almost made me beg
the station-master's company on my walk; but, besides being ashamed
to exhibit a timidity apparently groundless, I was reluctant to draw
attention to myself in any way. I would not for the world have it
supposed that I carried anything of value.

"Well, there's no help for it," said I, and, buttoning my heavy coat
about me, I took my hand-bag and stick in one hand, and asked my way
to the hotel. My misfortunes had broken down the station-master's
indifference, and he directed me in a sympathetic tone.

"Straight along the road, sir," said he, "between the poplars, for hard
on half a mile; then the houses begin, and your hotel is in the first
square you come to, on the right."

I thanked him curtly (for I had not quite forgiven him his earlier
incivility), and started on my walk, weighed down by my big coat and
the handbag. When I left the lighted station yard I realized that the
evening had fallen very dark, and the shade of the tall lank trees
intensified the gloom. I could hardly see my way, and went timidly, with
frequent stumbles over the uneven stones of the road. The lamps were
dim, few, and widely separated; so far as company was concerned, I might
have been a thousand miles from an inhabited house. In spite of myself,
the thought of danger persistently assailed my mind. I began to review
every circumstance of my journey, twisting the trivial into some ominous
shape, magnifying the significance of everything which might justly
see