Silverbeach Manor by Margaret S. Haycraft Page B

affair. He
were in the police force once, were Mr. Spinks."
    The accused
evidently resigns himself to his fate, and though he looks
wistfully after the Masden train he walks beside the watchful guard
to the office, followed by inquisitive spectators, some of whom
say, audibly, "It's the young lady from Silverbeach, Miss Adair.
What a fright it do seem to have given the poor young lady, to be
sure!"
    The
stationmaster listens attentively to Pansy's agitated complaint,
and scans, with quick scrutiny, the quiet face of the accused.
    "Nobody
else can have stolen it," says
Pansy. " I took out my purse to see if my
ticket was all right just after we passed Highdale, and the last
passenger got out there. Only this man
remained."
    The young
fellow wishes he had got out at Highdale as well, and escaped all
this annoyance. "I am sorry you have lost your purse," he says to
Pansy, "but after an examination of my pockets, I trust the
officials here will permit me to proceed on my journey, as I am
pressed for time."
    "Oh, the
search is nothing," says Pansy. "People like you can hide things
anywhere in a moment. I have read all about you. I dare say you
gave it to a confederate in the crowd just now."
    "Your opinion
is scarcely flattering," says the young man, quietly, "but time
presses. Where can I be searched, if it has to be done? "
    "One
moment," says the station master. "Is the young lady quite sure the
purse is lost? I have known cases where
articles have been found about the dress. If the lady would not
mind examining the folds of her skirt, it may be somewhere in the
drapery."
    "Oh dear, no!"
says Pansy, but the remembrance flashes across her that a little
while ago she put a letter, as she thought, in the pocket of that
dress, and found out afterwards that it had slipped into quite
another part of her skirt. Certainly it is a most awkward pocket to
reach. At this moment she detects that the bottom of the skirt is
unduly heavy. She puts down her hand with a burning face, and up
comes the purse, which has slipped through another part instead of
her pocket.
    The quiet eyes
meet hers for an instant as she stands aghast, wishing the ground
would open and hide her. The porters comment on the cleverness of
their chief, and the station master turns again to his pen and ink.
Pansy stammers some words of shamed apology, but the supposed
culprit is already out of the office, trying to make up for lost
time by inquiries as to another route to Masden now the mainline
train has departed.

Chapter
7
    Marlow Holme
    MAY
DAMAREL, of Willowtree, Pansy's closest friend, is about to be
married. Her fiancé is a celebrated
organist, too grave and clever-looking, some of the young folks
think, for May; but it is a true love-match, and both parties seem
very happy in prospect of the occasion.
    " You shall be chief bridesmaid," May whispered
to Pansy when announcing her engagement, and so it has been
arranged. And never did fairer bridesmaid pass between seats filled
with eager, interested spectators than the beautiful Miss Adair, in
silken garments the colour of a tea rose, and drooping daffodils
holding the drapery here and there.
    Pansy is
secretly a little excited today, for she has heard that the best
man is to be Marlow Holme, the poet, whose work she knows and
loves, and she rather likes the thought of walking down the aisle
on the poet's arm. She visions a far-away look, dreamy eyes, long
flowing hair, a general aspect of familiarity with Pegasus, and
unconsciousness of what is going on around. As soon as possible she
steals a glance at the tall figure standing beside the
bridegroom.
    Though the
service has commenced, Pansy can scarcely withhold an exclamation
of horror. Her face flushes crimson, and the other bridesmaids
think a pin must be pricking her, or that her hair must be coming
down. In Marlow Holme, deputed to be her escort, she has recognized
at once the young man to whom she caused such annoyance by hasty
and unjust suspicion.
    There is