There were two gentlemen—also known to the reader—who arrived just in time to witness this incident: the one was Captain Lee, the other Edwin Gurwood. They both carried bags and rugs, and were evidently going by that train. The captain, who happened to have a bad cold at the time, was muffled up to the eyes in a white worsted comforter, and had a fur travelling-cap pulled well down on his forehead, so that little of him, save the point of his nose, was visible.
The moment that the two fops caught sight of Captain Lee, they whispered to Thomson—
“That’s our man.”
“Sure?” demanded Thomson.
“Quite,” replied Smith. “That’s about the size and make of the man as described to me. Of course they could not tell what sort of travelling gear he would appear in, but there’s no mistaking the bag—old, stout leather, with flat handle-strap.”
“All right,” said Thomson; “but who’s the young fellow with him?”
“Don’t know,” replied Smith; “yet I think I’ve seen his face before. Stay, Jenkins, wasn’t he in the accident at Langrye station?”
“Perhaps he was; but it’s of no consequence to us.”
“It will be of consequence to us if he goes with the old gentleman,” retorted Smith, “for he’s a stout fellow, and wouldn’t be easy to manage.”
“I’ll manage him, no fear,” said Thomson, looking at the unconscious Edwin with a dark sinister smile.