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Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 53 of 399

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The Argosy — page 53: Pulp Fiction, 1865

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40 The Night Boat from Boulogne. of here, but the thief will wait to do that, and then will most likely try to get back to England.” “Then we shall go back to-night. Why not before ?” ‘Because there is just a chance of the officials finding it. I will give them till the evening.” ‘Suppose they should come here to-morrow morning, and we were not here?” asked Janet, as she clasped her hands. “JT must go this evening. Mr. Harris will wonder at my silence as it 1s.” | ‘Then, Frank, suppose I stay here, in case anything turns up? What’s the good of having a wife, if she is not to be useful ? ” “Vou, Janet! alone in a Paris hotel! No, no. I have already brought enough trouble upon you.” But Janet persisted. ‘“ Frank, don’t talk as if I were to be kept in cotton wool. Iam determined I will stay here till I hear further from you. Let me see you off; that is all I ask; and I will come back straight here in a cab. How I shall hate the very idea of Paris in the future! Now, Frank, let us have some breakfast, and then go back to the station. It is too soon yet to despair.” It seemed at this moment as if Janet had the clearer brain of the two. The truth was that, having taken in her husband’s plan, she determined to help it on. The realisation of his misfortune seemed almost too much for him, but his brave little wife would not despair, or rather would not allow despair to take possession of her. Seeing Janet was not to be moved, Frank gave in, and with heavy hearts they began to prepare for further search and inquiry. In vain ; the time for the evening train to London saw Frank and his wife at the bustling station, and not a ray of hope was in their faces. Evidently the best chance was immediate return. The French police were warned, but they were a little sceptical about the bag having been taken, so little could the young Englishman describe the supposed thief. The dark hair and dark beard and whiskers was the only clue they had. Frank waited till he had seen Mr. Harris before setting French detectives to find the thief. The train was off, and Janet Hulse turned back with a heavy heart, and went into the large waiting hall which in a Paris railway station always seems to be more or less like Colney Hatch let loose. Janet sank down ona seat, and dreamily watched the hurrying throng, for she seemed to be nearer to Frank here than in the hotel. She felt so utterly lonely and miserable now that he was gone, and there was no more reason for forcing herself to appear cheerful. Fate was indeed against them, and the deep disappointment following the joyful expectations was almost more than she could bear. Suddenly she gave a start. Whose was that face? Surely she had seen it before? A tall, young-looking man, with dark hair, and who carried a well-worn Gladstone bag in his hand. No, she knew no one Gomichbooks.co