"More, I think.--For I am not going on."

"Thought you had a through ticket, sir?"

"So I have, but I shall sacrifice the rest of it. I want my luggage."

"Please to come to the van and point it out, sir. Be good enough to look
very sharp, sir. Not a moment to spare."

The guard hurried to the luggage van, and the traveller hurried after
him. The guard got into it, and the traveller looked into it.

"Those two large black portmanteaus in the corner where your light
shines. Those are mine."

"Name upon 'em, sir?"

"Barbox Brothers."

"Stand clear, sir, if you please. One. Two. Right!"

Lamp waved. Signal lights ahead already changing. Shriek from engine.
Train gone.

"Mugby Junction!" said the traveller, pulling up the woollen muffler
round his throat with both hands. "At past three o'clock of a
tempestuous morning! So!"

He spoke to himself. There was no one else to speak to. Perhaps, though