But the only one to get off was a well-setup young fellow in irreproachable apparel, and he did not belong to us.
“Why, of course, they never would have taken a parlour car. The Benedicts might, but the Wardens wouldn’t,” said Ethel, and we looked down the platform to see whether they had alighted. But they had not. Our guests had not come.
“Isn’t it too provoking,” said Cherry, sympathetically to Ethel.
“It really is,” said Ethel. “That dinner will be stone cold if we wait for the next train.”
“When is the next train?” asked Ellery.
“In two hours,” I replied. “They won’t come to-night, though. Something happened to Tom at the last minute and he asked the rest to wait and they waited. We’ll get a telegram saying so. Everybody obeys his will always.”
The irreproachable stranger had been walking around as if he was looking for somebody. He now approached me with uplifted hat.
“Would you be so good as to tell me whether Mr. Vernon lives near here?”
“I am Mr. Vernon.”
He coloured, stammered and said,