"Just gone through at sixty miles an hour," was the reply. "She
made our old wooden sheds shake, I can tell you. Who's driving
her?"

"Jim Poynton," Liverpool answered. "The guvnor took him off the
mail specially."

"What's the fellow's name on board, anyhow?" Crewe asked. "Is it
a millionaire from the other side, trying to make records, or a
member of our bloated aristocracy?"

"The name's Fynes, or something like it," was the reply. "He
didn't look much like a millionaire. Came into the office
carrying a small handbag and asked for a special to London.
Guvnor told him it would take two hours and cost a hundred and
eighty pounds. Told him he'd better wait for the mail. He
produced a note from some one or other, and you should have seen
the old man bustle round. We started him off in twenty minutes."

The station-master at Crewe was interested. He knew very well
that it is not the easiest thing in the world to bring influence
to bear upon a great railway company.

"Seems as though he was some one out of the common, anyway," he
remarked. "The guvnor didn't let on who the note was from, I
suppose?"

"Not he," Liverpool answered. "The first thing he did when he
came back into the office was to tear it into small pieces and