"Come along," I yelled. "Here we are!"
He scrambled out after me on to the platform, and the train glided away into the darkness.
We were both of us rather upset, and Pitman decided that he would come to my house and have a brandy-and-soda before going home.
"Nothing like brandy-and-soda for a nervous shock," he said gravely.
I felt a little doubtful about the brandy, but he seemed so certain that I gave way, and we trudged up together to the cottage. I lighted the lamp in my little dining-room, and poured out a couple of drinks.
"Pitman," I said, "we've had a ripping day."
"Ripping," he repeated.
I raised my glass. "Here's luck," I said, "and long life to the turkey."
With a cry of horror Pitman dropped his tumbler and collapsed into a chair.
* * * * * * *