Just as I reached the plank, however, I heard Lord Ralles ask,—
“Who’s that?”
“It’s me,” said a voice,—“the station agent.” Then I heard a door close. Some one walked out to the centre of the platform and remarked,—
“That ’ere way freight is late.”
At least the letters were recovered.
CHAPTER XV
THE SURRENDER OF THE LETTERS
If the letters were safe, that was a good deal more than I was. The moment the station-master had made his agreed-upon announcement, he said to the walkers,—
“Had any news of Mr. Gordon?”