Astra (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill
the woman impatiently. "Dying! He's not dying! He gets these spells. He'll come out of it. He's most likely out of it now. And who, may I ask, presumed to take my husband into a stateroom and bring a strange doctor and a strange nurse and stenographer and make such a to-do about it all? Why did anybody think he was sick?"
"I really don't know, madam," said Astra coldly. "I was asked to come, and I came."
"Well, really! This is very mysterious! Who presumed to ask you?"
"The young man who was in there when you came. I don't know who he is. He came into the other car where I was sitting and called out to know if there was a stenographer there who would come quickly and take some dictation."
"Well, of all the absurd ideas!" said the woman, snapping her eyes at Astra. "Who is this young man? Some friend of yours?"
"No," said Astra, and her own voice was somewhat haughty now. "I never saw him before."
"What is his name?"
"I don't know, madam. You'll have to ask him."
"Well, it shows what kind of girl you are, going off with a strange young man to take dictation from a stranger! Well, what important dictation did you take? Let me see the papers! I'll take charge of them now."
"I haven't the papers, madam."
"Where are they?"
"I don't know. I presume they have been taken care of as your husband directed."
"Well, what did the papers say?" demanded the woman.
Astra looked at her with wide, surprised eyes.
"Why, that wouldn't be my business to tell," she said. "A stenographer is only supposed to do her work and then forget about it."
"Oh, really? And you have the impudence to say that to the wife of the man whose dictation you took?"
Then Astra saw the young man coming toward her, and she looked up with relief.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly to the irate woman. "It was a matter of business, you know, sales he had completed on his trip, I think. I don't suppose it would interest you. And I have not intended to be impudent. A stenographer is not expected to give attention and remember the matters which she transcribes, she is only a machine while she is at work. At least, that is what I have been taught."
Then she rose and stood ready as the young man reached her side, and the woman turned and started at the young man, giving Astra opportunity to escape toward the door.
The young man soon followed her.
"I thought," he said as he reached Astra's side and opened the door for her, "that perhaps we could go into the diner and get some dinner together. There we could have an opportunity to make a few plans about those papers. That will give us comparative freedom from interruption. I don't fancy having that woman interfering, do you? She may be his wife, but she has no idea what happened, and from what he told me, I don't think he wanted her to have. He had evidently seen his son and had an interview with him. Now, you haven't had your dinner yet, have you? Will you go with me?"
He led her into the dining car and chose a table where he could watch anyone entering at the other end and where they would be far enough from other diners so that their conversation would not be heard. After the preliminaries of ordering were over, he leaned across the table and began to talk quietly.
"Now," he said with a pleasant, businesslike smile, "my name is Charles Cameron. My business office happens to be next door to the office of G. J. Faber, our sick man. I know him personally only slightly. We meet occasionally. By reputation I know him well. He is highly respected."
Cameron studied the face of the girl before him as she watched him while he talked. He decided she was taking in every word he said and comparing it with her impression of the sick man.
The waiter arrived just then with their order, and there was no more conversation for a few minutes till he was gone.
"Mr. Faber got on the train at Chicago," went on the young man, "with his wife and a lot of luggage. He had the section opposite mine. He looked up after he was settled and nodded casually to me, as he always does when we meet. After that, we didn't pay any further attention to one another. His wife was occupying the center of the stage and there was no opportunity. I was reading. I dimly realized that they were having some kind of a discussion, though she was doing most of the talking, and presently she went off in the direction of the diner. That seems a long time ago to me now. But I fancy she took her time. And then, too, she would be one who demanded a good deal of service in a diner, which explains her long absence during our most strenuous time."
The waiter came back to refill their water glasses, and when he left, Cameron went on.
"The wife hadn't been gone but a very few minutes before Mr. Faber reached over and touched me on the arm. He said he was sick, would I help him? He wanted a doctor and a stenographer. That is how it all began. The porter said there was a rather famous doctor on board, and he brought the nurse. Now I ought to tell you that I'm afraid there is a little more involved in this than just copying those notes. We've probably got to appear before a notary and swear to all this, you know. That is, if he dies, and the doctor seems to think there is no hope for him. But I thought I had better prepare you for the next act. Are you game?"
He watched her somewhat anxiously, and she suddenly smiled.
"Of course," she said gently. "Would it be likely to take long? But that wouldn't matter. I was planning to stay in the city for a few days at least. And my time is not important just now."
"Well, that certainly is accommodating of you. You know, of course, that this won't be any expense to you, and there will be some remuneration for your services. Mr. Faber gave me money to cover all such items when he first asked me to help."
"But I wasn't expecting remuneration," said Astra. "I was glad to help someone in distress."
"Well, that makes it nice," said Cameron, "but there will be remuneration. And now, may I know your name? It might be convenient, you know, before we are through with this business."
"I am Astra Everson," said the girl. "And perhaps I ought to tell you that I am not a regular stenographer. Although I've had good training, I have never done that work for anybody but my father."
"I don't see that that should make any difference," said Cameron. "You evidently are a good stenographer. One could tell that by watching you work a few minutes. Your father is most fortunate to have such an able assistant."
Astra flashed a pleasant look at him.
"Thank you," she said gravely. "But my father died almost two years ago. I've been living with a relative since. But I've come away from her home now, and I'm on my own. I haven't thought out my plans definitely yet."
"Yes?" said Cameron. "Well, could you perhaps give me an address where mail would be forwarded to you?"
Astra thought for a moment and then gave him the address of an old friend of her father's.
"I shall keep in touch with them," she said, "and leave a forwarding address there if I should go away."
"Thank you. I'll be remembering that," said Cameron. "I feel that you have done a great piece of work to-day. I doubt if there is another person on this train that could have covered the needs of that dying man as perfectly and comprehensively as you have done. I hesitate to speak of it, because I was not supposed to be in the room, and it seemed too sacred a thing for one to intrude upon. I mean your prayer. I don't know a girl in my whole list of acquaintances who would have the courage to pray for that dying man, or would have known how, under such circumstances. Undoubtedly, some of my friends pray in private, or at least I suppose they do, but I wouldn't be sure that one of them would have done it aloud or would have known what to say if they had tried."
Astra lifted wondering eyes, as if to make sure he had understood.
"But, he asked me, you know."
"Yes, I heard. And it certainly was a genuine request. I never heard such