For several minutes after he had stepped on to the wooden
platform, Mr. Hamilton Fynes showed no particular impatience to
continue his journey. He stood in the shadow of one of the sheds,
looking about him with quick furtive glances, as though anxious
to assure himself that there was no one around who was taking a
noticeable interest in his movements. Having satisfied himself at
length upon this point, he made his way to the London and North
Western Railway Station, and knocked at the door of the
station-master's office. The station-master was busy, and
although Mr. Hamilton Fynes had the appearance of a perfectly
respectable transatlantic man of business, there was nothing
about his personality remarkably striking,--nothing, at any rate,
to inspire an unusual amount of respect.

"You wished to see me, sir?" the official asked, merely glancing
up from the desk at which he was sitting with a pile of papers
before him.

Mr. Hamilton Fynes leaned over the wooden counter which separated
him from the interior of the office. Before he spoke, he glanced
around as though to make sure that he had not forgotten to close
the door.

"I require a special train to London as quickly as possible," he
announced. "I should be glad if you could let me have one within
half an hour, at any rate."

The station-master rose to his feet.

"Quite impossible, sir," he declared a little brusquely.