The Strange Story of Linda Lee Read Free

request.
    Linda’s companion produced his ticket and it was duly clipped. She opened her bag and handed the man hers. After a glance, he said, ‘Sorry, Miss. This is a second, and you’re travelling first.’ Then he produced his pad and added, ‘I’ll have to charge you excess. One pound six shillings please.’
    In her panic, Linda had not noticed the class of the carriage into which she had jumped. Now she had let herself in for spending money she could ill afford. On the previous morning she had drawn all her savings out of her Post Office account. They amounted to little more than thirty pounds; but she had decided that it would be ample to keep her in a modest boarding house in London until she found a job.
    Diving again into her bag, she ignored her purse, knowing that after buying her ticket it contained only a few shillings. Quickly she hunted for the wallet she had bought to hold her savings. Next moment she was frantically turning the things in the bag over and over. But the wallet was not there.
    Then the reason why it was missing came back to her. The wallet had been lying on her dressing table. She had been about to put it in her bag when her mother came into the room. In the scene that followed, she had forgotten all about it and, when dashing for the door, left it there.
    Horrified, she realised the awful truth. She was on her way to London with barely enough money to buy herself a meal, let alone a bed.

Chapter 2
The Third Alternative
    Linda’s golden-brown eyes were wide with fright and apprehension. Her mouth dropped open, then she stammered, ‘I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ter travel first. Couldn’t I move to a second-class compartment?’
    The elderly collector shook his head. ‘First-class coaches are clearly marked, Miss. You couldn’t have failed to see the yellow line.’
    ‘But I did. I promise. I was in an awful hurry.’
    ‘That’s as may be. But you’re travelling first, and I ‘ave ter abide by the rules. One pound six shillings please.’
    Linda was almost in tears. In her ignorance she had awful visions of being sent to prison for defrauding British Railways. Miserably she burst out, ‘But I can’t pay. I haven’t got the money. I left me notecase on the dressing table.’
    The well-groomed, middle-aged man opposite her had put down his book. Taking his wallet from his pocket, he said, ‘That is the sort of thing that might happen to anyone. You must allow me to lend you the excess fare.’
    ‘That’s terrible good of you.’ Linda swallowed hard. ‘But … but I may not be able to pay you back.’
    Handing two notes to the collector, her rescuer gave a quiet laugh. ‘What refreshing honesty. It is as good as a promise that you will when you can afford to, and I’m in no hurry for the money.’
    The collector scribbled a receipt. Handing it to Linda, he closed the door and went off down the corridor. After a moment, she said, ‘Thank you, Sir. I’m that grateful. Cross me heart, I am.’
    Her companion smiled again, produced a visiting card and gave it to her. ‘There’s my name and address. When you are really in the money, you can send me a cheque.’
    The card read,
Roland Frobisher, 103 Park Side West, London, N.W.I
., and in the bottom right-hand corner,
St. James’s
. The latter puzzled her, as she had no idea that it was the name of a club. Returning his smile, she said, ‘More likely it’ll be a postal order. Only businesses and rich people has bank accounts, an’ there’s not much chance of me becoming rich all of a sudden. When I get to London I haven’t even got a job to go to.’
    ‘No doubt you’ll soon find one.’
    ‘Hope ter goodness I do! By leaving me notecase behind I’ve landed meself in an awful mess.’
    ‘Surely your—er—father or mother will post it on to you?’
    Linda shook her head and again tears came into her eyes. ‘Ma might,’ she gulped. ‘That’s if she don’t let on to Pa that I forgot it. If she does, he