Mason said a word to a porter as they rushed in. The porter answered; then, while they fled on, the man stopped a moment and looked back as though about to run after them. But a dozen passengers with luggage laid hands upon him at once, and he was left with no time for more than the muttered remark:
"Marsland? Why, there's no train beyond Braeside to-night."
"No. 4 platform," said Hubert to his companion. "Train just going." Laura threw off her exhaustion and ran.
The guard was just putting his whistle to his lips. Hubert lifted her into her carriage.
"Good-bye," she said, waving to him, and disappeared at once into a crowd of fellow-passengers.
"Right for Marsland?" cried Hubert to the guard.
The guard, who had already whistled, waved his flag as he replied:
"Marsland? No train beyond the junction to-night."
Hubert paused for a moment, then, as the train was moving briskly out, sprang upon the foot-board. A porter rushed up, the door was opened, and he was shoved in amid remonstrances from front and rear.
The heavily laden train stopped at every station—was already nearly an hour late. Holiday crowds got in and out; the platforms were gay with talk and laughter.