tragedy. She had a strange feeling that God had been in that stateroom while she had been praying for the dying man, and He had heard her prayer. She seemed still to hear the echo of that whispered "Amen!" as if it were the heartfelt assent of the man's passing soul. And it seemed a strange thing that it had been so arranged that she should have been the one to answer that cry from a dying man.
She wondered, was he gone yet? It surely had seemed like the end. Her own sorrowful experience when her father died had taught her to know the signs. And it had really seemed to give him relief to leave those messages behind. She was glad she had been able to help.
Then she heard a door open sharply at the extreme other end of the car, and footsteps, silken stirrings, sounded down the corridor. Suddenly there was the smart lady coming stormily down toward her, battle in her eyes.
She sighted Astra almost at once and fixed her cold blue gaze upon her, coming on with evident intention to do her worst.
Now she was upon her, standing in front of her with the attitude of an officer of the law come to bring her to justice.
"Who are you?" she demanded, and her voice rose again. "And what were you doing in my husband's stateroom, you shameless creature, you?"
CHAPTER II
Astra looked at the woman with surprise, growing into dawning comprehension, and then a quick glow of interest.
"Oh," she said pleasantly, "you didn't understand what happened, did you? I didn't go in there of my own accord. I was asked to go."
"Indeed!" said the woman arrogantly. "Who could possibly have asked you to go? Who had a right to do so? Who are you, anyway?"
"Oh," said Astra with a quiet calm upon her and the hint of a smile through the gravity of her expression, "I am just a stenographer they asked to come and take some dictation for a man who was dying."
"Nonsense!" said the woman impatiently. "Dying! He's not dying! He gets these spells. He'll come out of it. He's most likely out of it now. And who, may I ask, presumed to take my husband into a stateroom and bring a strange doctor and a strange nurse and stenographer and make such a to-do about it all? Why did anybody think he was sick?"
"I really don't know, madam," said Astra coldly. "I was asked to come, and I came."
"Well, really! This is very mysterious! Who presumed to ask you?"
"The young man who was in there when you came. I don't know who he is. He came into the other car where I was sitting and called out to know if there was a stenographer there who would come quickly and take some dictation."
"Well, of all the absurd ideas!" said the woman, snapping her eyes at Astra. "Who is this young man? Some friend of yours?"
"No," said Astra, and her own voice was somewhat haughty now. "I never saw him before."
"What is his name?"
"I don't know, madam. You'll have to ask him."
"Well, it shows what kind of girl you are, going off with a strange young man to take dictation from a stranger! Well, what important dictation did you take? Let me see the papers! I'll take charge of them now."
"I haven't the papers, madam."
"Where are they?"
"I don't know. I presume they have been taken care of as your husband directed."
"Well, what did the papers say?" demanded the woman.
Astra looked at her with wide, surprised eyes.
"Why, that wouldn't be my business to tell," she said. "A stenographer is only supposed to do her work and then forget about it."
"Oh, really? And you have the impudence to say that to the wife of the man whose dictation you took?"
Then Astra saw the young man coming toward her, and she looked up with relief.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly to the irate woman. "It was a matter of business, you know, sales he had completed on his trip, I think. I don't suppose it would interest you. And I have not intended to be impudent. A stenographer is not expected to give attention and remember the matters which she transcribes, she is only a machine while she is at work. At least, that is what I have been taught."
Then she rose and stood ready as the young man reached her side, and the woman turned and started at the young man, giving Astra opportunity to escape toward the door.
The young man soon followed her.
"I thought," he said as he reached Astra's side and opened the door for her, "that perhaps we could go into the diner and get some dinner together. There we could have an opportunity to make a few plans about those papers. That will give us comparative freedom from interruption. I don't fancy having that woman interfering, do you? She may be his wife, but she has no idea what happened, and from what he told me, I don't think he wanted her to have. He had evidently seen his son and had an interview with him. Now, you haven't had your dinner yet, have you? Will you go with me?"
He led her into the dining car and chose a table where he could watch anyone entering at the other end and where they would be far enough from other diners so that their conversation would not be heard. After the preliminaries of ordering were over, he leaned across the table and began to talk quietly.
"Now," he said with a pleasant, businesslike smile, "my name is Charles Cameron. My business office happens to be next door to the office of G. J. Faber, our sick man. I know him personally only slightly. We meet occasionally. By reputation I know him well. He is highly respected."
Cameron studied the face of the girl before him as she watched him while he talked. He decided she was taking in every word he said and comparing it with her impression of the sick man.
The waiter arrived just then with their order, and there was no more conversation for a few minutes till he was gone.
"Mr. Faber got on the train at Chicago," went on the young man, "with his wife and a lot of luggage. He had the section opposite mine. He looked up after he was settled and nodded casually to me, as he always does when we meet. After that, we didn't pay any further attention to one another. His wife was occupying the center of the stage and there was no opportunity. I was reading. I dimly realized that they were having some kind of a discussion, though she was doing most of the talking, and presently she went off in the direction of the diner. That seems a long time ago to me now. But I fancy she took her time. And then, too, she would be one who demanded a good deal of service in a diner, which explains her long absence during our most strenuous time."
The waiter came back to refill their water glasses, and when he left, Cameron went on.
"The wife hadn't been gone but a very few minutes before Mr. Faber reached over and touched me on the arm. He said he was sick, would I help him? He wanted a doctor and a stenographer. That is how it all began. The porter said there was a rather famous doctor on board, and he brought the nurse. Now I ought to tell you that I'm afraid there is a little more involved in this than just copying those notes. We've probably got to appear before a notary and swear to all this, you know. That is, if
