“Too good to be true,” said the young officer.
“Your deal,” said one of the card players unperturbed.
Just then, Hink, the conductor, arose with a start. He had never been known to fail to rouse himself at the right moment.
“Snailsdale Manor!” he called. “A-a-a-l-l out for Snailsdale Manor!”
CHAPTER XXIV
SIDE-TRACKED
Out of the window of the locomotive projected the head of the substitute engineer. There was the frown of concentration on his countenance; his eyes were half closed in a studious but vain effort to penetrate the solid whiteness. He could not even see the smoke-stack. He craned his neck and kept his hand on the throttle. Just ahead of the locomotive travelled a small illusive area of illuminated mist. This was the best that the primitive old headlight could do.
Suddenly, within that small moving area, like printing in the weakly brightened circle of a toy magic lantern, appeared the end of a word and the whole of another word. The first part of the first word was evidently outside the little area of dusky light. The printing within the compass of brightness read:
DALE MANOR
The letters G-O-O-D preceding the dale, and the word FARM, following the word MANOR were not visible to mortal eye. Nothing was visible to mortal eye but a dim, unsubstantial mass, and those hovering, dusky, uncertain words DALE MANOR.