These two proceeded leisurely to the railroad-station, where they took a train which would carry them to the little town of Glenford.  Their affairs at the hotel could be arranged by telegram.  There were calls at that hotel during the rest of the day from people who knew Olive or her uncle; calls from people who wanted to know them; calls from people who would be contented even to look at them; calls from autograph hunters who would be content simply to send up their cards; quiet calls from people connected with the Government; and calls from eager persons who could not have told anybody what they wanted.  To none of these could the head clerk give any satisfaction.  He had not seen his guests since the day before, and he knew naught about them.

When Miss Maria Port heard that that horrid girl, Olive Asher, had shot an anarchist, she stiffened herself to her greatest length, and let her head fall on the back of her chair.  She was scarcely able to call to the small girl who endured her service to bring her some water.  “Now all is over,” she groaned, “for I can never marry a man whose niece’s hands are dripping with blood.  She will live with him, of course, for he is just the old fool to allow that, and anyway there is no other place for her to go except the almshouse—­that is, if they’ll take her in.”  And at the terrified girl, who tremblingly asked if she wanted any more water, she threw her scissors.

The captain and his niece arrived early in the day at Glenford station.  The captain engaged a little one-horse vehicle which had frequently brought people to the toll-gate, and informed the driver that there was no baggage.  The man, gazing at Olive, but scarcely daring to raise his eyes to her face, proceeded with solemn tread toward his vehicle as if he had been leading the line in a funeral.

As they drove through the town they were obliged to pass the house of Miss Maria Port.  The door was shut, and the shutters were closed.  She had had a terrible night, and had slept but little, but hearing the sound of wheels upon the street, she had bounced out of bed and had peered through the blinds.  When she saw who it was she cursed them both.

“That was the only thing,” she snapped, “that could have kept me from gettin’ him!  So far as I know, that was the only thing!”

When old Jane received the travelers at the toll-gate she warmly welcomed the captain, but she trembled before Olive.  If the girl noticed the demeanor of the old woman, she pretended not to do so, and, speaking to her pleasantly, she passed within.

“Will they hang her?” she said to the captain later.

“What do you mean?” he shouted.  “Have you gone crazy?”

“The people in the town said they would,” replied old Jane, beginning to cry a little.

The captain looked at her steadily.  “Did any particular person in the town say that?”

“Yes, sir,” she answered; “Miss Maria Port was the first to say it, so I’ve been told.”