"We are going somewhere at a rapid rate," he replied. "When we arrive, we will leave the train and return to Basingstoke as soon as possible. Now do you happen to know our next stop?" "Yes: Salisbury." "How long before we get there?" "About three quarters of an hour." "That will at least give us time," he said, "to consider what is best to be done. Have you a railway guide?" "I think there is a South Western time-table in the pocket of dear Malcolm's coat," she said, indicating a garment on the seat beside her. "Why don't you call him St. Hubart and be done with it?" queried Allingford, as he searched for and found the desired paper. "You've given him all his other names." "I reserve that for important occasions," she replied; "it sounds so impressive." Mabel Scarsdale, it will be noticed, was fast regaining her composure, now that a definite course of action had been determined upon. But she could not help feeling depressed, for it must be admitted that it is disheartening to lose your husband before you have been married a day. What would he do, she wondered, when he found that the train had gone? Had he discovered its departure soon enough to warn Mrs. Allingford to leave her carriage? and if not, where had she gone, and had he accompanied her? The event certainly afforded ample grounds for speculation; but her reverie was interrupted by the Consul, who had been deeply immersed in the time-table. "There is no train back to Basingstoke before ten to-night," he said, "so we must spend the evening in Salisbury and telegraph them to await our return." "Possibly my husband may have chased the train and caught the rear carriage. I have seen people do that," she ventured. "The guard's van, you mean," he explained. "In that case he is travelling down with us and will put in an appearance directly we reach Salisbury, though I don't think it's likely. However, there's nothing to worry about, and I must beg you not to do so, unless you wish to make me more miserable than I already am for my share in this deplorable blunder." "You don't think they would follow us to Salisbury?" "No; that is"--and he plunged into the intricacies of the time-table once more--"they couldn't; besides, they would receive our telegram before they could leave Basingstoke." "Could they have gone off on the other train?" "Impossible," he replied. "By Jove, they neither of them know where they are bound for!" "Quite true," she said, "they do not. We had tickets for Exeter; but as a joke I never let my husband see them." "We were going to Bournemouth, and here are my tickets," he returned, holding them up, "but my wife doesn't know it." "You think there is no question that they are waiting for us at Basingstoke?" she asked. "Not a doubt of it; and so we have nothing to do but kill time till we can rejoin them, which won't be hard in your society," he replied.