Miss Thursdale, watching the approaching headlight, her ears filled with the din of the wheels, did not see or hear a second motor car rush up to the extreme south end of the platform.  She was not thinking of Windomshire or his machine.  That is why she failed to witness an extraordinary incident.

As the driver leaped from the car a second man disconnected himself from the shadows, paused for a moment to take orders from the new arrival, and then jumped into the seat just vacated.  Whereupon the one-time driver performed precisely the same feat that Dauntless had performed three minutes before him.  He jerked forth a couple of bags and then proceeded to lift from the tonneau of the car a vague but animate something, which, an instant later, resolved itself into the form of a woman at his side.

“I’ve settled with the company, Meaders,” hurriedly announced Windomshire to the man on the seat.  “The car is in your hands now.”

“Yes, sir; I understand.  Your week is up to-night.  Hope it was satisfactory, sir.”  The car shot off in the night, almost running down a man who scudded across the street in its path.

“Just in time, Anne,” said Windomshire to the tall, hooded figure beside him.  “Thank God, we didn’t miss it.”

“Hasn’t it been good sport, Harry?” cried the young woman, with an unmistakably English inflection.  “It’s just like a book.”

“Only more so,” he observed.  “This has really happened, you know.  Things never really happen in books, don’t you know.  You’ve not lost your tickets, dear?”

“No; they do that only in books.  Really, I’m trembling like a leaf.  I can’t realise that it is all taking place as we planned, and that I am to be your wife after all.  Ah, Harry! isn’t it splendid?”

“’Gad, little woman, I am the one who hasn’t the right to realise.  By Jove, I didn’t give myself credit for the cleverness to fool every one so neatly.  Really, don’t you know, however, I feel a bit sorry for Miss Thursdale.  She’s a ripping good sort, and I’m sorry on that account.”

Miss Courtenay—­erstwhile governess—­took hold of the lapels of his raincoat and looked seriously up into his face.  “Are you sure you’ll never regret giving her up for me—­with all her money?”

“Oh, I say, Anne dear, it’s I who am running away, not you.  I’ve always wanted you—­all my life.  I’ve been something of a cad—–­”

“It wasn’t your fault.  Mrs. Thursdale was bound to have you.  It’s her way.”

“It hurts my pride to say it, but hanged if I think—­er—­Eleanor was very strong for the match.  I’ve a notion she was bullied into it.”

“I’m quite sure of it.”

“You’re doing her a good turn, my dear.  You see, I couldn’t love her, and I’d probably have beaten her and all that.  It wasn’t as if I had to marry her for her money.  Deuce take it, I’ve got a few pounds of my own.”

“I’m only Anne Courtenay, the governess.”