Elizabeth and Anna had found a spot near one of the staircases down which visitors came to enter the hall, so they would see their quarries arrive. From here they could see all the stairways. They had been waiting about twenty minutes when they saw Madame, Waterson and Persephone arrive. They each carried a Gladstone bag and Waterson also carried the carpetbag containing the cash.

Anna and Elizabeth turned their backs, but it didn’t matter. The trio wasn’t looking for them or anyone else. Why should they worry about being followed? They were making their escape before their victims were any the wiser.

The trio stopped for a moment to discuss something. Elizabeth couldn’t help noticing Madame’s reddened cheek and the meek way she hung her head when Waterson spoke to her. Madame had certainly done evil things, but no one deserved to be treated like that. She watched as they moved off together to the ticket windows.

“Should we follow them?” Anna asked eagerly.

“Not until they have their tickets. No sense risking being seen, and there’s no telling which direction they’ll go to catch their train.”

So Elizabeth and Anna waited.

The lines were long, but eventually, the trio of con artists had their tickets to wherever they intended to go next. Waterson checked the board for the track number, and they walked slowly over to the stairs that would take them to the correct part of the train concourse below when the time came. Plainly, the train hadn’t been called yet, and from the way Waterson checked his watch, they were in no hurry. Good. This could work.

They had found a spot to wait and set down their luggage, even the bag of money, although Waterson kept it close. Elizabeth and Anna began to stroll slowly over to where they stood. Elizabeth shifted the bag she carried to her other hand.

They were about twenty feet away when a ghostly voice wailed out, “Persephone. Persephone.”

Persephone whirled around to see Jake standing in the middle of Penn Station, his shirt bloodied, his face chalk white. He raised an unsteady arm and pointed at her accusingly.

“Persephone,” he wailed again as the crowd around him fell back in horror. “Don’t leave me.”

When she finally found him in the crowd, Persephone screamed, and she wasn’t the only one. The onlookers fled from him, everyone running into everyone else in their haste to escape the terrifying specter who had come to haunt his lady friend.

Persephone ran, too, joining the hysterical crowd streaming toward the doors, pushing and jostling and tripping and screaming. Madame Ophelia went after her, and after a moment of uncertainty, his gaze darting between the specter and his fleeing females, Waterson snatched up the bag of money and followed them.