A moment after Dick was seen running up the platform, his big hat giving him the appearance of an American. As he passed each compartment of their carriage he whispered something in at the window.
'What can he be saying? What can he be arranging?' asked Miss Leslie.
'I don't care how he arranges it as long as I get a drink on the cheap at
Preston,' said Mortimer.
'That's the main point,' replied Dubois.
'Well, Dick, what is it?' exclaimed everybody, as the big man sat down beside Kate.
'The moment the train arrives at Preston we must all make a rush for the refreshment-rooms and ask for Mr. Simpson's lunch.'
'Who's Mr. Simpson? What lunch? Oh, do tell us! What a mysterious fellow you are!' were the exclamations reiterated all the way along the route. But the only answer they received was, 'Now what does it matter who Mr. Simpson is? Eat and drink all you can, and for the life of you don't ask who Mr. Simpson is, but only for his lunch.'
And as soon as the train stopped actors, actresses, chorus-girls and men, conductor, prompter, manager, and baggage-man rushed like a school towards the glass doors of the refreshment-room, where they found a handsome collation laid out for forty people.
'Where's Mr. Simpson's lunch?' shouted Dick.
'Here, sir, here; all is ready,' replied two obliging waiters.