The chauffeur, dressed in plain dark livery, stepped out, and
threw open the rear door, without asking so much as a question. Except
that the fellow stood there, looking directly toward him, his fingers on
the latch, expectantly, West would not have known that he was wanted. Yet
it was all so obvious he could not question. Silently he picked up his
bag, and stepped forward. He saw no one within, but firm in the belief
that the chauffeur must have his orders, he entered blindly, the door
closing instantly behind him. The curtains were drawn, the interior
gloomy and indistinct, and the driver had resumed his seat, and started
the motor, before West realized that he was not alone. In one corner of
the wide back seat, drawn back from any possible observation from
without, sat a woman.
At first glance he could only barely distinguish the outlines of her
figure, dimly discernable against the dark background of the upholstery,
but, as his eyes accustomed themselves to the faint light, her features
also became dimly visible--enough so, at least, to convince him that she
was young. Neither spoke for some moments, while the automobile gathered
speed, and West had an uncomfortable feeling that the lady was watching
him with great intentness. Slightly embarrassed, and uncertain as to his
best course of action, the young man remained silent, his eyes on the
burly back of the chauffeur, revealed through the front glass.
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