She was trembling in every limb, for now the events of the past few days were slowly looming through the fog with which the drugs had clouded her brain. She was in the power of Digby Groat, and the mysterious woman in black was coming to her rescue. It did not seem possible. She stood up and almost collapsed, for her head was humming and her knees seemed incapable of sustaining her weight. She held on to the head of the bedstead for several minutes before she dared begin to dress.
She forgot her raging thirst, almost forgot her weakness, as with trembling hands she fastened the beautiful dress about her and slipped on the silk stockings and satin shoes. Why did the mysterious woman in black choose this conspicuous dress, she wondered, if she feared that Digby Groat would be watching for her? She could not think consecutively. She must trust her rescuer blindly, she thought. She did her hair before the tiny mirror and was shocked to see her face. About her eyes were great dark circles; she had the appearance of one who was in a wasting sickness.
“I’m glad Jim can’t see you, Eunice Weldon,” she said, and the thought of Jim acted as a tonic and a spur.
Her man! How she had hurt him. She stopped suddenly in the act of brushing her hair. She remembered their last interview. Jim said she was the daughter of Lady Mary Danton! It couldn’t be true, and yet Jim had said it, and that gave it authority beyond question. She stared at her reflection, and then the effort of thought made her head whirl again and she sat down.
“I mustn’t think, I mustn’t think,” she muttered, and yet thoughts and doubts, questions and speculations, crowded in upon her. Lady Mary Danton was her mother! She was the woman who had come into Jim’s flat. There was a tap at the door and she started. Was it Digby Groat? Digby who had brought her here?
“Come in,” she said faintly.
The door opened but the visitor did not enter, and she saw, standing on the little landing, a woman in black, heavily veiled, who beckoned to her to follow. She rose unsteadily and moved towards her.
“Where are we going?” she asked, and then, “Thank you, thank you a thousand times, for all you are doing for me!”
The woman made no reply, but walked down the stairs, and Eunice went after her.
It was a dark night; rain was falling heavily and the mews was deserted except for the taxicab which was drawn up at the door. The woman opened the door of the cab and followed Eunice into its dark interior.
“You must not ask questions,” she whispered. “There is a hood to your coat. Pull it over your head.”
What did it mean? Eunice wondered.
She was safe, but why were they going out of London? Perhaps Jim awaited her at the end of the journey and the danger was greater than she had imagined. Whither had Digby Groat gone, and how had this mysterious woman in black got him out of the way? She put her hand to her head. She must wait. She must have patience. All would be revealed to her in good time—and she would see Jim!
The two people who were interested in the departure of the eleven-forty-five train for the north, did not think it was unusual to see a girl in evening dress, accompanied by a woman in mourning, take their places in a reserved compartment. It was a train very popular with those visitors to London who wanted to see a theatre before they left, and the detective who was watching on the departure platform, scrutinizing every man who was accompanied by a woman, gave no attention to the girl in evening dress and, as they thought, her mother. Perhaps if she had not been so attired, they might have looked more closely—Digby Groat was a great student of human nature.
Lady Mary, in her restlessness, had come to Euston to supplement the watch of the detectives, and had passed every carriage and its occupants under review just before Eunice had taken her seat.
“Sit in the corner,” whispered the “woman,” “and do not look at the platform. I am afraid Groat will be on the lookout for me.”
The girl obeyed and Lady Mary, walking back, seeing the young girl in evening dress, whose face was hidden from her, never dreamt of making any closer inspection. The detective strolled along the platform with her towards the entrance.
“I am afraid there will be no more trains tonight, my lady,” said the bearded officer, and she nodded. “I should think they’ve left by motorcar.”
“Every road is watched now,” said Lady Mary quietly, “and it is impossible for them to get out of London by road.”
At the moment the train, with a shrill whistle, began to move slowly out of the station.
“May I look now?” said Eunice, and the “woman” in black nodded.
Eunice turned her head to the platform and then with a cry, started up.
“Why, why,” she cried wildly, “there is Mrs. Fane—Lady Mary, my mother!”
Another instant, and she was dragged back to her seat, and a hateful voice hissed in her ear:
“Sit down!”
The “woman” in black snapped down the blind and raised “her” veil.
But Eunice knew that it was Digby Groat before she saw the yellow face of the man.
XXXVII
The recognition had been mutual. Lady Mary had seen that white face, those staring eyes, for a second, and then the train had rolled quickly past her, leaving her momentarily paralysed.
“There, there!” she gasped, pointing. “Stop the train!”
The detective looked round. There was no official in sight, and he tore back to the barriers, followed by Lady Mary. He could discover nobody with authority to act.
“I’ll find the stationmaster,” he cried. “Can you telephone anywhere?”
There was a telephone booth within a few yards and her first thought was of
