"I'll be wet through," the man muttered.

"And serve you right!" the woman exclaimed. "If there's a man in
this village to-night whose clothes are dry, it's a thing for him
to be ashamed of."

The innkeeper reluctantly departed. They heard the roar of the
wind as the door was opened and closed. The woman poured out another
glass of milk and brought it to Gerald.

"A godless man, mine," she said grimly. "If so happen as Mr. Wembley
had come to these parts years ago, I'd have seen myself in my grave
before I'd have married a publican. But it's too late now. We're
mostly too late about the things that count in this world. So it's
your friend that's been stricken down, young man. A well-living man,
I hope?"

Gerald shivered ever so slightly. He drank the milk, however. He
felt that he might need his strength.

"What train might you have been on?" the woman continued. "There's
none due on this line that we knew of. David Bass, the
station-master, was here but two hours ago and said he'd finished
for the night, and praised the Lord for that. The goods trains
had all been stopped at Ipswich, and the first passenger train was
not due till six o'clock."

Gerald shook his head with an affectation of weariness.