Although she could ill afford the expense, she resolved to allay all apprehension, by the costly sedative of a telegram.

Only a wall separated the ticket office from that of the “telegraph,” and approaching the operator, Beryl asked for a blank form, on which she wrote her mother’s address, and the following message: 

“Complete success required delay.  All will be satisfactory.  Expect me Saturday.  B. B.”

When she had paid the operator, there remained in her purse, exclusive of the gold coins received that afternoon, only thirty-eight cents.  Where could she spend the next seven hours?  Interpreting the perplexed expression of her face, the agent, who had curiously noted her movements, said courteously: 

“There is a hotel a few blocks off, where you can rest until train time.”

“I prefer to remain here.”

“We generally lock up this office about half-past eight, and re-open at half-past two, which gives passengers ample accommodation for the 3:05 train.”

“Would you violate regulations by leaving the waiting-room open to-night?”

“Not exactly; as of course we are obliged to keep open for delayed trains; but it will be lonesome waiting, for no one stays here, except the Night Train Despatcher, and the switch watchman.  Still if it will oblige you, miss, I will not lock up, and you can doze away the time by spreading your shawl on two chairs.  I am going to supper now, and shall turn down the lights.  One burner will be sufficient.”

“Thank you very much.  Where can I find some water?”

“In the cooler in the ladies’ dressing-room.  It is most unaccountably hot tonight, and I never knew anything like it in October.  There must be a cyclone brewing somewhere not far off.”

He lifted his hat, as he passed her, and disappeared; and the tired girl seated herself near a window and stirred the dense, impure air by fanning herself with her straw hat.  Gradually the few stragglers loitering about the station wandered away; the engineer stepped upon the locomotive; a piercing whistle broke suddenly on the silence settling down over the whilom busy precincts, and as the rhythmic measure of the engine bell rang farewell chimes, a pyramid of sparks leaped high, and the mighty mechanism fled down the track, hunting its own echoes.  The man in charge of the express office came out, looked up and down the street; yawned, lighted his pipe, and after locking the office, wended his way homeward.

From the adjoining room came the slow monotonous clicking of the telegraph wires, as messages passed to other stations, and only the switch watchman was visible, sitting on an inverted tub, and playing snatches from “Mascotte” and “Olivette” upon a harmonicon.