The station superintendent met me in the office, which was brilliantly lit and cooled by an electric fan.
"I expect you're feeling pretty well done, Sir John," he said.
"I feel pretty tired, Johnson, I own."
"There's a big thunderstorm coming up, not a doubt of it. The air'll be cooler afterwards. All the arrangements about the prisoners are made, sir."
The staff had been in communication with London all day upon this matter, but I had not heard the result. I inquired from the superintendent now.
"Our two birds, Sir John, and the three they've got at Penzance are to travel to London to-night. They'll be brought up at Bow Street for a minute or two, and remanded for a week to suit your convenience. The Home Office will communicate with you, sir."
"Very well. How are they going?"
"The night mail train leaves Penzance at twelve, and gets here at two. The other three will be on board and well guarded. Our prisoners will join the train at Mill Bay Station. I've detailed Prosser and Moore to escort them."
"See that the men are well armed. How are the prisoners?"