issued tickets on the night I have
mentioned. Did he remember such a passenger as I described?

"Yes, sir," he said, "I do remember such a chap; partly because he was
the only passenger, and partly because he looked so strange. He looked
as if he'd been fightin', and yet he was quite sober. He was a funny
chap, sir; one as I shudd'n like much to do wi'."

"And where did he book for?"

"Dingledale Junction, sir."

"And he would be able to catch a train from there?"

"He would have to wait a quarter of an hour for the express to Leeds,"
replied the man.

"And how long will it be before there's another train to Dingledale
Junction?" I asked anxiously.

"Three hours and a half, sir."

This was an awful blow to me. To wait all this time at that roadside
station was weary work, especially as I could do nothing. I found,
however, that I could hire a horse and trap that would take me there in
about two hours. I therefore closed with this offer, and shortly after
drove away.

I felt sure I had made one step forward. Kaffar was alive. The blunt
Yorkshireman's description of him tallied exactly with the real
appearance of the Egyptian. Of course I was not sure, but this was
strongly in favour of his being alive. There was something tangible for
which to work now, and my heart grew lighter.

Dingledale Junction proved to be rather a busy place. There were two
platforms in the station, and a refreshment room. I found also that Mr.
Smith was actually represented there, in the shape of a small boy, a
dozen novels, and a few newspapers. This, however, did not augur so well
for my inquiries. The officials here would not be so likely to notice
any particular passenger. Still there was something in my favour.
Kaffar would in any circumstances attract attention in a country place.
His appearance was so remarkable, that any countryman would stop for a
second look at him.

After a great many inquiries, I found that Kaffar, or a man strongly
resembling him, had been there on the night in question, and had taken a
ticket for Leeds. He had no luggage, and what made the porter in
attendance remember him so vividly was the fact of his being angry when
asked if he had any luggage to be labelled.

So far, then, my inquiries were successful; so far I might congratulate
myself on making forward steps. And yet I was scarcely satisfied. It
seemed too plain. Would Kaffar have allowed himself to be followed in
such a way? I was not sure.