Bill nodded, none too graciously, and some money was given to Mrs. Bagshot.
"I'm going out of town myself," added Mark, as he took leave of the giant, "but I know I can trust you, Bill."
Mr. Bagshot grinned sheepishly. It is possible, although not very probable, that he had an elementary sense of humour. Mark hurried away looking at his watch. Just round the corner he charged into the deacon, who offered up fervent thanks that he was unhurt. "I must run," said Mark, pushing on, "or I shall miss my train." He did run till a hansom was found in the Mile End Road. Into this he jumped, bidding the driver use all reasonable haste. None the less as Mark appeared on the platform at Waterloo the Westchester express was rolling slowly out of the station.
"Close shave that," said a quiet voice; "you might have been under the train instead of in it. Was it worth while?"
Mark sank, gasping, on to the cushions.
"Yes; it was worth while," he exclaimed, and then fainted.
When he recovered consciousness the train was running through Clapham Junction. Mark smelled brandy, and saw the impassive face of a tall, thin stranger bending over him. No other person was in the carriage.
"Keep quiet for five minutes," the stranger commanded.
Mark closed his eyes. His heart was thumping, but his brain worked smoothly. When he saw the train rolling out of the station he had been seized with an absurd conviction that he must overtake and travel by it to the great happiness awaiting him at Birr Wood. What followed was a blur, only, strangely enough, the voice of the tall, thin man was familiar. He had heard his calm, authoritative accents before; by Heaven! he had heard that voice repeating the same words: "Keep quiet." And they had been spoken to the accompaniment of a thumping, throbbing heart and horrible physical weakness. Who—who was the speaker? Ah...! He remembered. The long, lofty room at Burlington House, the boys in all stages of dressing and undressing, the amazement and dismay on Jim Corrance's face—these unfolded themselves like the shifting scenes of a cinematograph.
"You are Amos Barger," he murmured.