There was that in Burns's tone--all that and
more. His wrath was quite evidently no explosion of the moment, but the
culmination of long irritation and distrust, brought to a head by some
overt act which had settled the offender's case in the twinkling of an
eye.
Burns came out soon after, followed by a woman well shrouded in a heavy
veil.
King jumped out of the car. "I'm awfully sorry," he tried to say in
Burns's ear. "Just leave me and I'll walk back."
"Ride on the running board," was the answer, in a tone which King knew
meant that he was requested not to argue about it.
Therefore when the woman--to whom he was not introduced--was seated, he
took his place at her feet. To his surprise they did not move off in the
direction from which they had come, but went on over the hills for five
miles farther, driving in absolute silence, at high speed, and arriving
at a small station as a train was heard to whistle far off somewhere in
the darkness.
Burns dashed into the station, bought a ticket, and had his passenger
aboard the train before it had fairly come to a standstill at the
platform. King heard him say no word of farewell beyond the statement
that a trunk would be forwarded in the morning. Then the whole strange
event was over; the train was only a rumble in the distance, and King
was in his place again beside the man he did not know.
* * * * *
Silence again, and darkness, with only the stars for light, and the
roadside rushing past as the car flew.
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