At last the bell rang, and he heard the distant scream of the coming train. There were few people on the platform, but at the last moment John Hamilton arrived with his harmonium and his beautiful daughter.
The instrument had to be lifted into the luggage van, a task that the railway porter did not relish, and he was not slow in showing the contempt he felt for traveling musicians and such like.
The same man subsequently attended upon Sir Harold, and was surprised to find himself gruffly ordered out of the way.
The train started, and until he heard a hoarse cry of “Tenterden, Tenterden!” he had lost count of time and space. Then he awakened to a momentary interest in life, for he remembered that the sweet singer told him that she and her father lived at Tenterden.
He looked from the window and saw that the station was a mere wooden shanty.
It appeared to be quite deserted now, and the old musician was struggling to lift his harmonium out of the luggage van, while the guard swore roundly at him for wasting the company’s time.
All at once there was a crash, and a cry of anger and dismay from John Hamilton, mingled with the laughter of the guard, as the train steamed onward again.
In a moment Sir Harold had grasped the situation. The harmonium had been precipitated to the platform, and lay a wreck, while the old musician was alternately bewailing his misfortune and threatening the railway company.
Burning with pity and indignation, the young baronet resolved to help the old man in his distress, and, opening the door of the carriage, sprang lightly to the ground.
No one appeared to have seen his action, and the train steamed slowly from view round a curve in the line, and in this simple manner commenced one of the most extraordinary mysteries of modern times.