We marched up to the ticket-office, and with very bad grace he purchased me a single ticket.
"When does the train start?" he inquired of the agent.
"In ten minutes."
"That suits. Come on;" the latter to me.
We boarded the train. Mr. Stillwell found a vacant seat in the middle of the car, and insisted on my taking the inside, next the window. Then he placed himself between me and the aisle.
"Now I want none of your fooling," he said, as he settled back.
I made no reply, and we rode on in perfect silence.
I sat awake for a long time. I could not speculate upon what the future held in store for me. I well knew that Mr. Stillwell was a deep one, and I determined to trust him no further than was absolutely necessary.
"When will we reach New York?" I asked.
There was no reply, and turning, I saw that his eyes were closed.
I was pretty sure he was shamming, and to prove it, made a slight movement as if to rise.
Instantly his eyes were wide open.
"No, you don't. Sit down there," he cried.
I repeated my question.
"Not before to-morrow morning."
