Quickly he sprang forward, taking up a good position to watch.  First came a man hurriedly and alone.  A bunch of people followed him.  Hugh peered unsuccessfully here and there among them.  Another bunch; she was not in it, and he began to feel a trifle nervous.  Now came the stragglers and he grew bewildered.  Finally, the last one—­a woman hove in sight.  With renewed hope he scanned her approach.  It was not Grace!  His brain was in a whirl.  What could have happened?  Where was she?  Again he jerked out the telegram.

“Meet me Forty-second Street, New York, at three,” he read half-aloud.  “Nothing could be plainer,” he mused in perplexity.  “No train at three; another at—­she must be on a later one.”

“What time is the next Chicago train due?” he inquired anxiously at the Information Bureau.

“Five-thirty, sir,” politely answered the official.

“Five-thirty!” he repeated disgustedly.

Again the telegram was brought out and this time shown.

“On what road did you expect the lady?” was the question put with well-simulated interest that every few minutes was practised on different individuals.

“Road?” Hugh stared blankly at his questioner.  “What road?” Then, like a flash, the solution of the problem pierced his brain.

“What an ass I am!” he burst out, and added sheepishly:  “West Shore!”

Purposely avoiding the other’s face for confirmation of his self-depreciatory exclamation, together with its unmistakable expression of professional tolerance for the imbecilities of mankind, Hugh looked at the time.  It was two-thirty.  Tearing out of the station, he hailed a cab.

Inside, and moving fast, he winced a little as he thought of his late strictures on girls and their ways.  What a shame to have abused Grace, when he himself had told her to take the Wabash as essential to their plan.  What a blooming idiot he was!  New York in the telegram meant, of course, the New York side of the river.  He recovered his equanimity; the world was serene again.

With a sharp pull the cabman brought up at the ferry and Hugh took his stand among those waiting for the boat to disgorge its load of passengers.

At that moment a thought struck him, and acting on it, he called out: 

“Hi! porter!”

“Here, sir!”

“Where can I get some note paper?”

“All right, sir!” and in an instant a pad of paper was forthcoming.

Hugh took out his pencil and wrote a brief note.  Then, in a low voice, he said: 

“Here, porter!  I want you to do something for me.”

“Yes, sir!”

“I’ll make it worth your while, but I won’t hare you attending to any one else—­understand?”

The porter demonstrated with a nod his perfect comprehension of what was required, and there followed from his employer a minute description of the lady.

“Young, slight, tall, fair, black hat and veil, and—­”