As he wheeled into the turnpike, he heard the trampling hoof-beats and jingling harness of the oncoming coach behind him.

He had barely time to draw up against the bank before the six galloping horses and swinging vehicle swept heavily by.

He had a quick impression of the heat and steam of sweating horse-hide, the reek of varnish and leather, and the momentary vision of a female face silhouetted against the glass window of the coach! But even in that flash of perception he recognized the profile that he had seen at the window of the mysterious hut! He halted for an instant dazed and bewildered in the dust of the departing wheels.

Then, as the bulk of the vehicle reappeared, already narrowing in the distance, without a second thought he dashed after it.
His disappointment, his self-criticism, his practical resolutions were forgotten.

He had but one idea now--the vision was providential! The clue to the mystery was before him--he MUST follow it! Yet he had sense enough to realize that the coach would not stop to take up a passenger between stations, and that the next station was the one three miles below Skinner's.