The Washington times., 1920-08-29
CHAPTER XIX (Cont'd). /.
The Escape.

the Grown" and listening to the
sounds OF II. the kissing of the
ostler as he rubbed down the horse.
his gutteral admonishings to the
animal as he led him across the
cobbles with harness hanging.
tingling. and backed him between
the shafts OF the crazy old landau
in which Robert was TO make the
journey to Mayfield.
Then the ostier, throwing his cap
into the harness room. took down
a battered silk hat from It's peg. and
placing II tenderly on his head,
changed from ostler to coachman.
and presenting himself at the open
window. intimatsd that all was
ready.
But when the express for London
left the station at Mayneld, Robert
Baxenter was not among the pas
sengers, for events had happened
which had considerably altered that
gentleman's arrangements. At the
time the train left, he was moodily
pacing the High Street OF the
manufacturing town in the vicinity
of the Post office.
Every ten minutes or quarter Of
an hour he entered the ugly red
brick building and inquired anx-
iously IL telegram had arrived for
him, and at last his impatience was
rewarded. He crossed over to the
light that struggled in at the long.
dirt.encrusted windows, and eagerly
tore open the bun envelope. The
message was quite short:
Leaving Euston seven, arrive
eight-thirty. SILAs."
Robert glanced up at the clock
which hung in the centre Of the
great bare wall. and saw he had
the better part of three hours In
which to kick his heels In Mayfeld.
A warm, drizzling rain had COM
menced to fall. and he made his
way to the comfortable inn In the
meitei square where he had been
de- tied by the cab which had
CON- eyed him from Barchester. He
drew up chair close to the old
fash oned bow window and sat
looking out through its blurred
panes across the deserted square.
At the best of times an unattractive
town : was on this particular
evening r It's most cneerless mood.
The factories, the tall chimney
stacks OF which showed above the
houses OF the market place, were
senGing out shrill siren-shrieks to
tell their workers that the hour of
release had come and that they
were free to attend to their per-
sonal affairs.
Below him in the street a few
miserable figures shuffled past, or
Sbm the doorways of the shops
opposite surveyed the weather.
A moment, and the square teemed
with life, men and women, stunted
and pinched, hurried past, their
shoulders bent to snatch such roor
shelter as shawls and sacking af-
forded. Their rough ironshod shoes
made a not unmusical clatter on
the wet cobbles.
With the coming of darkness the
scene grew more than ever depres-
sing Little. patches OF blurred
light flickered out from the public
house across the square and the
houses surrounding the Town Hall
loomed shapeless mass through
the curtain of sooty rain. A clock
in the neighboring street chimed
dolefully seven times, and Robert,
with q little shiver, rose and pulled
down the blind, as though to shut
out the scene Of sordid squalor.
He rang and ordered a whiskey-
and-soda and told himself, when he
had finished 1t, that he felt consid-
erably better. He would take the
opportunity of writing to Stella. 1t
was fortunate for her peace of mind
and his own independence of action
that the girl was that week playing
in the west Of England and would
not he expecting to see him. Robert
hoped that he would be able to see
his AFFAIR with Dartin through to its
conclusion without her needing to
know or worry her little head about
IL at all. Any anxiety she may have
felt when she did not receive a let
ter at the theatre would have been
dispelled by the telegram he had
sent TO her on reaching Barchester
that afternoon.
At 8 O'Clock he ordered supper to
be served In a private room In an
hour, and, dropping stella's letter
In the box as he went through the
hall, he left the hotel. The rain
had now ceased and the streets had
taken on a more cheerful appear
ance, and as the solicitor made his
way down TO the station his spirits
rose accordingly.
The train from London was we'll