She had a compartment to herself in the train from London to Morningside Park, and she sat with both her feet on the seat in an attitude that would certainly have distressed her mother to see, and horrified her grandmother beyond measure; she sat with her knees up to her chin and her hands clasped before them, and she was so lost in thought that she discovered with a start, from a lettered lamp, that she was at Morningside Park, and thought she was moving out of the station, whereas she was only moving in. CHAPTER XIV. “The Widgetts,” she said. But where in the world was the girl? A door led to another chamber beyond. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila. My only excuse is that I missed my way here, and I am leaving Paris early to-morrow morning.
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