Mavis turned to the nurse, who put her finger to her forehead, as if to insist that Miss Meakin’s mind was unhinged.

Mavis had appealed to the policeman, to declare there must be some mistake, as she knew Miss Meakin to be of sound mind; but this man had replied that it was not his place to interfere.  Mavis, feeling anxious for her friend, was debating in her mind whether she should get into the cab with the girl and the nurse, when a keen-faced-looking man, who had listened to all that had been said, came forward to tell the policeman that if he did not interfere, his remissness, together with his number, would be reported to Scotland Yard.

The policeman, stirred to action, stepped forward, at which the nurse had sprung into the cab, to be driven away, when Miss Meakin had gone into hysterics upon Mavis’ shoulder.

Later, after she had come to herself in a chemist’s shop, she had told Mavis that she had left “Dawes’,” and was now keeping house for an aunt who was reduced to taking in paying guests somewhere in North Kensington.  She had been to Vincent Square to look up a late paying guest of her aunt’s, who had taken with her some of the household linen by mistake.  Upon her setting out for home, she had met with the uncanny adventure from which Mavis’ timely arrival had released her.

Directly Mavis reached home, she had written to Mr Devitt.  Four days passed, during which she heard nothing in reply.  The suspense filled her soul with a sickening dread.  Work at Melkbridge now promised alluring possibilities, qualities that had never presented themselves to her mind in the days when she believed that a letter from her would secure from Mr Devitt what she desired.  To her surprised delight, the fifth morning’s post had brought her a letter from Mr Devitt, which told her that, if she would start at once for Melkbridge, she could earn a pound a week in the office of a boot manufactory, of which he was managing director; the letter had also contained postal orders for three pounds to pay the expenses of her moving from London to Wiltshire.  Mavis could hardly believe her eyes.  She had already pawned most of her trinkets, till now there alone remained her father’s gifts, from which she was exceedingly loath to part.  The three pounds, in relieving her of this necessity, was in the nature of a godsend.

Now she stood on the platform at Melkbridge.  Her luggage had been put out of the train, which had steamed away.  Mavis thought that she would ask the station-master if he knew of a suitable lodging.  The man whom she judged to be this person was, at present, engaged with the porters.  While she waited till he should be at liberty, her mind went back to the time when she had last stood on the same platform.  It had been on the day when she had come down to Melkbridge fully confident of securing work with the Devitt family.  This had only been a few months ago, but to Mavis it seemed long years:  she had experienced so much in the time.  Then it occurred to her how often Archie Windebank had walked on the same platform—­Archie Windebank, who was now on the sea so many hundreds of miles from where she stood.  She wondered if he ever found time to think of her.  She sighed.