Along this Westcott lingered at the hour set, watchful of the road leading toward Haskell.
The only carriage belonging to the town livery passed soon after his arrival, evidently bound for the station, and from his covert he recognised Beaton lolling carelessly in the back seat.

This must mean that the man expected arrivals on the afternoon train, important arrivals whom he desired to honour.

There was no sign, however, of Miss Donovan; the time was up, yet with no evidence of her approach.
Westcott waited patiently, arguing to himself that her delay might be caused by her wish to get Beaton well out of the way before she ventured to leave the hotel.

At last he strode down the path to the bridge, and saw her leaning over the rail, staring at the ripples below.
"Why," he exclaimed in surprise, "how long have you been here ?" "Several minutes," and she turned to face him.

"I waited until the carriage passed before coming onto the bridge.