it isn't fit for our mail boat, it certainly isn't fit for anything
else that can come into Harwich Harbour. However, you'll hear what
they say when you get there."

Mr. Dunster nodded and relapsed into a taciturnity which was
obviously one of his peculiarities. The young man strolled down
the platform, and catching up with the inspector, touched him on
the shoulder.

"Do you know who the fellow is?" he asked curiously. "It's awfully
decent of him to let me go with him, but he didn't seem very keen
about it."

The inspector shook his head.

"No idea, sir," he replied. "He drove up just two minutes after
the train had gone, came straight into the office and ordered a
special. Paid for it, too, in Bank of England notes before he
went out. I fancy he's an American, and he gave his name as John
P. Dunster."

The young man paused to light a cigarette.

"If he's an American, I suppose that accounts for it," he observed.
"He must be in a precious hurry to get somewhere, though."

"A night like this, too!" the inspector remarked, with a shiver.
"I wouldn't leave London myself unless I had to. They say there's
a tremendous storm blowing on the east coast. Here comes the train,
sir--just one saloon and the guard's van."