In another moment it had disappeared
amid the foliage.
"Straight for the station," announced Mr. Sloan; and, taking out
his watch, added quickly; "the train is not due for fifteen
minutes. He'll catch it."
"The train south?"
"Yes, and the train north. They pass here."
Mr. Black turned a startled eye upon the guide. But Reuther's face
was still alight. She felt very happy. Their journey had not been
for naught. He would have six hours' start of his pursuers; he
would be that much sooner in Shelby; he would hear the accusation
against him and refute it before she saw him again.
But Mr. Black's thoughts were less pleasing than hers. He had
never had more than a passing hope of Oliver's innocence, and now
he had none at all. The young man had fled, not in response to his
father's telegram, but under the impulse of his own fears. They
would not find him in Shelby when they returned. They might never
find him anywhere again. A pretty story to carry back to the
judge.
As he dwelt upon this thought, his reflections grew more and more
gloomy, and he had little to say till he reached the turn where
the two men still awaited them.
In the encounter which followed no attempt was made by either
party to disguise the nature of the business which had brought
them thus together. The man whom Mr. Black took to be a Shelby
detective nodded as they met and remarked, with a quick glance at
Reuther:
"So you've come without him! I'm sorry for that.
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