the slightest doubt
that for the present, at any rate, Mr. Hamilton Fynes was exceedingly
anxious to keep his own company. As he drew nearer to his journey's end,
indeed, his manner seemed to lose something of that composure of which,
during the earlier part of the evening, he had certainly been possessed.
Scarcely a minute passed that he did not lean sideways from his seat and
look up and down the saloon. He sat like a man who is perpetually on
the qui vive. A furtive light shone in his eyes, he was manifestly
uncomfortable. Yet how could a man be safer from espionage than he!

Rugby telephoned to Liverpool, and received very much the same answer as
Crewe. Euston followed suit.

"Who's this you're sending up tonight?" the station-master asked.
"Special's at Willington now, come through without a stop. Is some one
trying to make a record round the world?"

Liverpool was a little tired of answering questions, and more than a
little tired of this mysterious client. The station-master at Euston,
however, was a person to be treated with respect.

"His name is Mr. Hamilton Fynes, sir," was the reply. "That is all we
know about him. They have been ringing us up all down the line, ever
since the special left."

"Hamilton Fynes," Euston repeated. "Don't know the name. Where did he
come from?"

"Off the Lusitania, sir."

"But we had a message three hours ago that the Lusitania was not landing
her passengers until tomorrow morning," Euston protested.

"They let our man off in a tug, sir," was the reply.

"It went down the river to fetch him. The guvnor didn't want to give him
a special at this time of night, but he just handed him a note, and we
made things hum up here. He was on his way in half an hour. We have had
to upset the whole of the night traffic to let him through without a
stop."

Such a client was, at any rate, worth meeting. The station-master
brushed his coat, put on his silk hat, and stepped out on to the
platform.

CHAPTER III. AN INCIDENT AND AN ACCIDENT

Smoothly the huge engine came gliding into the station--a dumb, silent
creature now, drawing slowly to a standstill as though exhausted after
its great effort. Through the windows of the saloon the station-master
could see the train attendant bending over this mysterious passenger,
who did not seem, as yet, to have made any preparations for leaving his
place. Mr. Hamilton Fynes was seated at a table covered with papers,
but he was leaning ba