“Are you sure of that? What I've got on might be the garb of a railroad-hand. Suppose there was something out of order in one of the cars—the plumbing, for example?”
“But you couldn't fool the conductor or the porter.”
“I might be able to. Let's try it.”
There was a pause, while Keating thought. “The truth is,” he said, “it doesn't matter whether you succeed or not—it's a story if you even make the attempt. The Coal King's son appealed to by one of his serfs! The hard heart of Plutocracy rejects the cry of Labour!”
“Yes,” said Hal, “but I really mean to get to him. Do you suppose he's got back to the train yet?”
“They were starting to it when I left.”
“And where is the train?”
“Two or three hundred yards east of the station, I was told.”
MacKellar and Edstrom had been listening enthralled to this exciting conversation. “That ought to be just back of my house,” said the former.
“It's a short train—four parlour-cars and a baggage-car,” added Keating. “It ought to be easy to recognise.”