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Pinkerton, A. Frank [pseud.]

"Or, The Crime of the Midnight Express"

At any rate, he seemed to be doing her a
good turn now, and she could do no other way than trust him.
"I am still puzzled about one thing," she said, seeming to forget the
question he had propounded.
"What is that?" asked Elliston.
"Why was I brought here?"
"Simply because you were not able to be taken home."
"But the hospital----"
"Was no place for a lady. I realized that you needed the best of care,
and knowing Aunt Venus was a kind, motherly soul, an excellent nurse,
even though she had a black skin, I brought you here."
"And here I've been--how long?"
"About fourteen days."
"So long?'
"You are surprised?"
"It doesn't seem a day."
"I suppose not. You haven't been in your right mind any of the time.
Have you any word to send to Dyke?"
"Are you going to him soon?"
"Immediately. I call at the hospital every day to inquire after the
dear boy, and I haven't been there this morning."
His voice was gentle, and there was a moist light in his dark eyes. It
was barely possible that she had wronged the New Yorker, and the
thought caused a pang. In the time to come she would confess her
obligations, but now she was not in a mood for it.
"If I could write a line it would do him more good than aught else,"
said Nell.


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