faultless pompadour, and a suspicion of powder on his small nose.

"All right, sir, we'll be there in fifteen minutes, sir," they heard
him say, as he was swallowed up by the yawning door.


II

Fifteen minutes later when the train slowed up, there emerged from the
drawing-room a man some years older than Randolph Paine, and many years
younger than Major Prime. He was good-looking, well-dressed, but
apparently in a very bad temper. Kemp, in an excited, Skye-terrier
manner, had gotten the bags together, had a raincoat over his arm, had
an umbrella handy, had apparently foreseen every contingency but one.

"Great guns, Kemp, why are we getting off here?"

"The conductor said it was nearer, sir."

Randolph Paine was already hanging on the step, ready to drop the
moment the train stopped. He had given the porter an extra tip to look
after Major Prime. "He isn't used to that crutch, yet. He'd hate it
if I tried to help him."

The rain having drizzled for hours, condensed suddenly in a downpour.
When the train moved on, the men found themselves in a small and stuffy
waiting-room. Around the station platform was a sea of red mud. Misty
hills shot up in a circle to the horizon. There was not a house in
sight. There was not a soul in sight except the agent who knew young
Paine. No one having come to meet them, he suggested the use of the