From his favorite seat, facing the audience, he watched the trainmen tumbling into the alcove off the west wing, in one corner of which a couple of Pullman porters in blue and gold sat at a small table, feeding with their forks and behaving better than some of their white comrades behaved.

* * * * *

Cassidy came in a moment later, sat down, and looked over to see if his rival was in his accustomed place.  The big messenger looked steadily at the other man, who had never guessed the messenger’s secret, and the other man looked down.

Already his supper, steaming hot, stood before him, while the table-girl danced attendance for the tip she was always sure of at the finish.  She studied his tastes and knew his wants, from rare roast down to the small, black coffee with which he invariably concluded his meal.

When Buck looked up again he saw Nora approach the table, smile at Cassidy, and put a cup of coffee down by his plate.

The trainmen were soon through with their supper, being notoriously rapid feeders,—­which disastrous habit they acquire while on freight, when they are expected to eat dinner and do an hour’s switching in twenty minutes.

Unusually early for him, Buck passed out.  Nora purposely avoided him, but watched him from the unlighted little private office.  She saw him light a cigar and stroll down the long platform.  At the rear of the last Pullman he threw his cigar away and crossed quickly to the shadow side of the train.  She saw him pass along, for there were no vestibules then, and made no doubt he was climbing into Cassidy’s car.  As the messenger reached for his change, the cashier-manager caught his hand, drew it across the counter, leaned toward him, saying excitedly:  “Be careful to-night, John; don’t fall asleep or nod for a moment.  Oh, be careful!” she repeated, with ever-increasing intensity, her hot hand trembling on his great wrist; “be careful, come back safe, and you shall have your answer.”

When Cassidy came back to earth he was surrounded by half a dozen good-natured passengers, men and women, who had come out of the dining-room during the ten or fifteen seconds he had spent in Paradise.

A swift glance at the faces about told him that they had seen, another at Nora that she was embarrassed; but in two ticks of the office clock he protected her, as he would his safe; for his work and time had trained him to be ready instantly for any emergency.

“Good-night, sister,” he called cheerily, as he hurried toward the door.

“Good-night, John,” said Nora, glancing up from the till, radiant with the excitement of her “sweet distress.”

“Oh, by Jove!” said a man.

“Huh!” said a woman, and they looked like people who had just missed a boat.

With her face against the window, Nora watched the red lights on the rear of No. 7 swing out to the main line.