"I went to the station-master's office," the latter continued,
"and tried to persuade them to let me ride in the guard's van of
your special, but he made a stupid fuss about it, so I thought I'd
better come to you. Can I beg a seat in your compartment, or
anywhere in the train, as far as Harwich?"

Mr. Dunster avoided, for the moment, a direct reply. He had the
air of a man who, whether reasonably or unreasonably, disliked the
request which had been made to him.

"You are particularly anxious to cross to-night?" he asked.

"I am," the youth admitted emphatically. "I never ought to have
risked missing the train. I am due at The Hague to-morrow."

Mr. John P. Dunster moved his position a little. The light from a
rain-splashed gas lamp shone now full upon the face of his suppliant:
a boy's face, which would have been pleasant and even handsome but
for the discontented mouth, the lowering forehead, and a shadow in
the eyes, as though, boy though he certainly was in years, he had
already, at some time or another, looked upon the serious things of
life. His nervousness, too, was almost grotesque. He had the air
of disliking immensely this asking a favour from a stranger. Mr.
Dunster appreciated all these things, but there were reasons which
made him slow in granting the young man's request.

"What is the nature of your pressing business at The Hague?" he asked.

The youth hesitated.