"Hi!" shouted the porter from the end of the platform. "There's a message
just come in, sir."

The station-master turned to the telegraph office in some astonishment.
It was not the ordinary signal message, or the down signal would have
dropped.

He read off. "If a lady arrives by 10.20, too late for Marsland train,
kindly help her make arrangements for night. Direct her to White Hart
Inn, tell her will meet her Marsland first train. Reply. Helbeck,
Bannisdale."

The station-master stared at the message. It was, of course, long after
hours, and Mr. Helbeck--whose name he knew--must have had considerable
difficulty in sending the message from Marsland, where the station would
have been shut before ten o'clock, after the arrival of the last train.

Another click--and the rattle of the signal outside. The express was at
hand. He was not a man capable of much reasoning at short notice, and he
had already drawn a number of unfavourable inferences from the conduct of
the two people who had just been hanging about the station. So he hastily
replied:

"Lady left station, said intended to walk by sands, but has gone towards
town. Gentleman with her."

Then he rushed out to attend to the express.

* * * * *