Grimm was saying to
the clerk. "She's decided it is unnecessary." He turned and glanced
toward her, and the clerk's eyes followed his. "Please give it to me."
It was passed over without comment. It was a sealed envelope addressed
to Mr. Charles Winthrop Rankin. Mr. Grimm glanced at the superscription,
tore the envelope into bits and dropped it into a basket. A minute
later he was assisting Miss Thorne and the prince into an automobile
that was waiting in front. As the car moved away two other automobiles
appeared from corners near-by and trailed along behind to the station.
There a private compartment-car was in readiness for them.
It was a long, dreary ride--a ride of utter silence save for the roar
and clatter of the moving train. Mr. Grimm, vigilant, implacable, sat at
ease; Miss Thorne, resigned to the inevitable, whatever it might be,
studied the calm, quiet face from beneath drooping lids; and the prince,
sullen, scowling, nervously wriggled in his seat. Philadelphia was
passed, and Trenton, and then the dawn began to break through the night.
It was quite light when they rolled into Jersey City.
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