An hour later Mr. Paddock spoke further cheering words in his friend's ear, and departed for the North. And in that city of moonlight and romance Minot was left (practically) alone. He took a little farewell walk through that quaint old town, then retired to his room to read another chapter in the time-table. At four-twenty in the morning, he noted, a small local train would leave for Jacksonville. He decided he would take it. With no parlor cars, no sleepers, he would not be likely to encounter upon it any of the startled wedding party bound north. The call he left did not materialize, and it was four o'clock when he awoke. Hastily in the chill dawn he bade farewell to town and hotel. In fifteen minutes he had left both behind, and was speeding toward the small yellow station set on the town's edge. He glanced feverishly at his watch. There was need of haste, for this train was made up in San Marco, and had had as yet no chance to be late. He rushed through the gate just as it was being closed, and caught a dreary little train in the very act of pulling out. Gloomy oil lamps sought vainly to lessen the dour aspect of its two coaches. Panting, he entered the rear coach and threw himself and his bag into a seat. Five seconds later he glanced across the aisle and discovered in the opposite seat Miss Cynthia Meyrick, accompanied by a very sleepy-eyed family! "The devil!" said Minot to himself. He knew that she would see in this utter accident nothing save a deliberate act of following. What use to protest his innocence? He considered moving to another seat. But such a theatric act could only increase the embarrassment. Already his presence had been noted--Aunt Mary had given him a glare, Spencer Meyrick a scowl, the girl a cloudy vague "where have I seen this person before?" glance in passing. Might as well make the best of it. He settled himself in his seat. Once again, as on another railroad car, he sought to keep his eyes on the landscape without--the dim landscape with the royal palms waving like grim ghosts in the half light. The train sped on. A most uncomfortable situation! If only it would grow light! It seemed so silly to be forced to find the view out the window entrancing while it was still very dark. Spencer Meyrick went forward to the smoker. Aunt Mary, weary of life, slid gently down to slumber. Her unlovely snore filled the dim car. How different this from the first ride together! The faint pink of the sky grew brighter. Now Minot could see the gray moss hanging to the evergreens, and here and there a squalid shack where human beings lived and knew nothing of life. And beside him he heard a sound as of a large body being shaken. Also the guttural protest of Aunt Mary at this inconsiderate treatment.