"Make sure of it," said the other. "Search the place; I'll wait for you here."
In two minutes more the men had left the house together.
A quarter of an hour later the night porter at the Hendon railway station saw a man run across the platform and leap into the up train just as the carriages were moving away. He remarked that the man was bareheaded, and wore his clothes awry, and that a rent near the collar of his long frieze ulster exposed a strip of red flannel lining. He thought he knew him.
The train had barely cleared the platform when two men ran up and came suddenly to a stand in front of the porter.
"Gone!" said one of them, with vexation.
"That would be the 11:35," said the other, "to King's Cross. Did any one get into it here, porter?"
"Yes, sergeant—Drayton, of the Hawk and Heron," said the porter.
"Your next up is 11:45 to St. Pancras?"
"Yes, sir, due at twelve."