At the mention of the girl's name there came a slight change over
Dudley's face--a change which struck the sensitive Max and touched him
deeply. Dudley took a step in the direction of his bedroom, and pulled
out his watch. As he did so a railroad ticket jerked out of his pocket
with the watch and fell to the ground.

Max saw it fall, but before he could pick it up or draw attention to it
his ideas were diverted by Dudley's next words:

"Well, you '11 excuse me, old chap. I've got to see a friend off by the
midnight train to Liverpool."

As he spoke Dudley turned, with his hand on the door, to cast a glance
at Max. He seemed to be asking himself what he should tell the other.
And then he took a step toward his friend and began an explanation,
which, as his shrewd eyes told him, Max required.

"The fact is that I got into the way of a beastly accident at Charing
Cross just now. Woman run over--badly hurt. Got myself covered with
blood. Ugh!"

Max was convinced that the shudder was genuine, although he had
doubts--of which he was ashamed--about the tale itself.

And how did that explain the proposed journey?

Dudley went on:

"I've only just got time to change my clothes and make myself decent.