"He did--but only enough for ourselves. Sorry we can't oblige you."

"All the same, I am going to beg some of it. May I speak to the
gentleman?"

"Mr. Gaddesden, sir, is dressing. The steward will attend to you."

And Bettany retired ceremoniously in favour of Yerkes, who hearing
voices had come out of his den.

"I have come to ask for some fresh milk for a baby in the emigrant car,"
said the stranger. "Looks sick, and the mother's been crying. They've
only got tinned milk in the restaurant and the child won't touch it."

"Sorry it's that particular, sir. But I've got only what I want."

"Yerkes!" cried Elizabeth Merton, in the background. "Of course the baby
must have it. Give it to the gentleman, please, at once."

The stranger removed his hat and stepped into the tiny dining-room where
Elizabeth was standing. He was tall and fair-skinned, with a blonde
moustache, and very blue eyes. He spoke--for an English ear--with the
slight accent which on the Canadian side of the border still proclaims
the neighbourhood of the States.

"I am sorry to trouble you, madam," he said, with deference. "But the
child seems very weakly, and the mother herself has nothing to give it.
It was the conductor of the restaurant car who sent me here."