The trip to Albany is a short one--much shorter than the railway time-schedules indicate. Both Belinda and Morgan Hamilton are prepared to testify to that effect. Also, they are willing to swear that the time between the arrival of the Chicago Express at Albany and the coming of the next New York train is grossly over-estimated. As the local train pulled into the Albany station a look of conscious guilt mingled with the excitement upon Belinda's face. "I wonder if they will come," she whispered. "I'd forgotten all about them," confessed the man at her side. The look of guilt deepened. She had forgotten, too. They came. From afar off the waiting couple saw Eva May's mighty bulk and the dapper figure at her side. Belinda stepped forward and the girl saw her. There was a pause, a moment's frightened silence, then Evangeline Marie made a noise 'twixt a groan and a squeal and clutched her beloved one's arm. Monsieur de Puys looked quickly around, saw the small but determined Nemesis in his path, and swore eloquently in good Anglo-Saxon. "Get into a cab," he said harshly to the hysterical girl beside him; and, as she made a move to obey, he turned threateningly to Belinda--but a tall, square-shouldered figure intervened, and two contemptuous eyes looked down at him. "That's enough, you contemptible whelp," said a very low but emphatic voice. "Your game's up, and you don't marry an heiress this trip. Now, get out, before I kick you out. If it weren't for the ladies I'd treat myself to the satisfaction of kicking you before you could go. I'll cut it out on their account, but if ever I hear of your speaking to that girl again or mentioning her name to anyone I'll make it my business to look you up and thrash you within an inch of your scoundrelly life." [Illustration: "'Your game's up, and you don't marry an heiress this trip'"] The red lips of Eva May's hero curled back from his white teeth in a snarl. The shallow, handsome face was white and vicious, but the insolent black eyes of the coward could not meet those of the man before him. A curious crowd was collecting. "Get out of this," said Morgan in a voice that held a warning. And the Frenchman went at once, muttering ineffectual vows of vengeance, but with never a look toward the fair Evangeline Marie, who was weeping upon Belinda's shoulder. The next train from the west took on only three passengers at Albany--a fair, good-looking young fellow in riding clothes, a fat, red-eyed girl in riding habit, and a pretty young woman in conventional garb. The fat girl fell into a seat, shut her eyes, and sobbed occasionally in a spasmodic way. The man held out his hand to the young woman. "I'll go into the smoker. I can't be of use any longer, but I'll see that you get a cab, and----" He hesitated, looked at her imploringly. "And--if--if I---- Belinda smiled. "Why, I'd be delighted," she said in answer to the question in his face. "Oh, may I come? Really? That's awfully good of you."