For a while longer they talked, completing their plans. Then drawing
out his pocket-book he said: "By-the-way, you will need money." But
she shook her head: "Not until I have the right. Here are my jewels;
sell them for me."
He protested and laughed at her scruples. But she insisted. And at
last, he took the valuables and left the hotel. Going to a bank where
he was known, he drew a large sum of money, and returning, placed a
roll of bills in her hand. Thinking that it was the price of her rings,
she accepted it without the slightest question.
That night, he bought a ticket for Chicago, over the Wabash from St.
Louis, taking a chair car, while she purchased one for a little town
on the Alton, and traveled in a sleeper. But at St. Louis, they remained
two days, stopping at a hotel agreed upon, but as strangers. Then they
again took tickets for different stations, over another road, but
stopped at Detroit. It was here that Amy's suspicions were aroused.
She was sitting at dinner, when Whitley entered the dining room with
two traveling men who seemed to be well acquainted with him. The trio,
laughing and talking boisterously, seated themselves at a table behind
her. Recognizing Whitley's voice, she lifted her eyes to a mirror
opposite, and to her horror, distinctly saw him point her out to his
friends.
Amy's dinner remained untasted, and hiding her confusion as best she
could, she rose to leave the room. As she passed the table where Whitley
and the men were eating, the two drummers looked at her in such a way
that the color rushed to her pale cheeks in a crimson flame.
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