“I told the steward I had no objections to sitting with others provided they were strangers, so he placed me at a table for four. A gray-haired, florid-faced old man and his comfortable fat wife were two of my companions. The third was a splendid, healthy specimen of young manhood, Scandinavian young manhood, a yellow-haired, sturdy son of vikings.
“The old couple finished their simple repast and left. I was ordering and the handsome young giant was beginning to eat when the beautiful blond girl I had observed in the sleeper came in and took one of the seats I just vacated.
“The girl’s eyes and the man’s eyes met, and not for the first time, I could see. For their glance was charged with electricity, a bolt of lightning that struck something akin to terror in each. An instant afterwards, the young man was up from the table, laying a ten-dollar note beside his plate, and then he was gone, fleeing from the mysterious horror of this chance encounter with a woman whom God had never intended to inspire young manhood with anything but burning love.
“And the girl, the young woman—I started from my chair, ready to catch her if she swooned. For it seemed she must swoon, so pale she was. But with a marvelous show of courage she forced herself into a state of pseudo-calmness.
“I bolted my meal in a manner that would have caused my doctor intense mental anguish. I asked the waiter for my check and he, observing the young man’s money lying there, inquired if I knew whether he was coming back. Before I could speak, the girl uttered a sharp, ‘No’; then bit her lip as if in rage that she had said it.
“We were between Harrisburg and Altoona when she appeared again in the sleeper. She stopped beside me and put an unsealed, unaddressed envelope in my hand.
“ ‘It kills me to do this,’ she said in a voice barely audible. ‘I am not accustomed to asking favors from a stranger, but it is necessary and you look kind. I am sure you noticed the man, the young man, who was with us in the dining car, who got up and left when I sat down. I think you will find him in the club car and I want you to give him this. I cannot trust it to the porter. Don’t wait for a reply. Just give it to him, and then come back here and tell me. Will you?’
“I answered, of course I would, and I begged her to inform me if there was something more I could do. ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘nothing.’
“The young man was easily found. He was in the club car as she had guessed, staring straight ahead of him.
“Without a word I handed him the envelope, and returned to her and reported. She expressed gratitude with a smile that was more heartrending than tears.
“My instinct, or sense of decency, ordered me not to pry. I took my book to the club car and tried vainly to read, for my brain was consumed with curiosity and anxiety as to what was going on between those two torn souls.
“When at length I turned in, at Pittsburgh, the berth opposite mine was dark and its curtains drawn.
“I rose in the morning as we were rushing through the Indiana town of Plymouth. The curtains across the aisle were open now, but there was no sign of the girl. Nor had she appeared as we slowed up for Englewood. My inquiry of the porter, had he seen her since the preceding night, was answered in the affirmative. ‘Yes, suh. She done leave us three hours ago, at Fort Wayne.’
“I remarked I had thought she was bound for Chicago. ‘She sho’ was Chicago bound,’ said George, ‘but young gals, dey got a “unailable” right to change deir min’.’ I then asked if he had seen her conversing with a big, blond, handsome young man. ‘No, suh. De only man she co’versed to was maself, and ma bes’ frien’s don’t call me handsome or blond neithuh one.’
“I waited on the platform in the Union Station and watched all the passengers as they left the train. The girl was not among them, but the man was, and as he walked out to the taxi stand, I followed him unobtrusively, saw him enter a cab and heard the starter say, ‘Stevens House.’ I went to the Sherman and bathed and changed, and awaited word from my friend the General.
“But I could not get my mind off the queer incidents of the trip and you can imagine the shock it gave me to read, in an afternoon paper, the story of a well-dressed, unidentified young woman who had committed suicide by throwing herself in front of the second section of the Broadway Limited at Fort Wayne.
“My duty was clear. I hurried to police headquarters, stated my name and was received by the chief. I told him I was sure he could earn the thanks of the Fort Wayne authorities and officials of the railroad by sending one of his men with me to the hotel where I believed my ‘friend’ of the train was stopping; that if I could find him, I was sure we would be able to learn the unfortunate girl’s identity and perhaps the reason for her ghastly deed.
“The chief delegated Captain Byrne to accompany me. As we drove up to the door of the hotel we saw policemen dispersing
