"Get in," said Dick to Amaryllis.
The guard called to the porter:
"Can't keep 'er. Five minutes behind already," and let his green signal flutter.
Dick followed Amaryllis and closed the door.
And even as the engine made its first slow movement, there came a rush of heavy feet on the wooden flooring of the booking-office, and two men in motor-cycling rig made a determined dash at the train.
The station-master, eager for unpleasing duty, emerged shouting:
"Stand back!"
But the porter would not see nor hear him, and opened the door of the compartment immediately in front of that which his label had reserved. The runners scrambled in.
Dick had been careful not to show his face until the door—the next, it seemed—was banged shut. But a rapid glance at that very moment showed him that it was indeed from the next compartment that came the half-crown which the porter caught as it fell.
Dick settled back into his seat with the consciousness that the partition against which he leaned was poor protection from a revolver-bullet.