nd fetch M. Bates.'"

This struck Trenholme as just, and any objection he felt to spending the
night under the same roof with the mysterious coffin did not seem worth
remark.

As for Saul, he professed himself satisfied with the arrangement. He was
only too glad to have some one brought who would share his
responsibility and attest, in part at least, his tale.

"Well," said Trenholme, "I'll go then."

He felt for the key of the station in his pocket, and would have thanked
the men and bid them "good evening," had they not, rather clamorously,
deprecated his intention. Living, as they did, far from all organised
justice, there was in them a rough sense of responsibility for each
other which is not found in townsmen.

Trenholme shortly made out that they had decided that two of them should
help him to guard the station that night, and were only disputing as to
who should be allotted for the purpose.

"It isn't at all necessary," said Trenholme.

"We sink," said Turrif, with his deliberate smile, "it will be best; for
if you have not been wandering in your mind, some one else's body has
been wandering."

Trenholme went back to his station in the not unpleasant company of two
sturdy farmers, one young and vivacious, the other old and slow. They
found the place just as he had left it. The coffin was empty, save for
the sweet-scented cushion of roughly covered pine tassels on which the
body of the gaunt old Cameron had been laid to rest.

The three men sat by the stove in the other room. The smoke from their
pipes dimmed the light of the lamp. The quiet sounds of their talk and
movements never entirely took from them the consciousness of the large
dark silence that lay without. No footfall broke it. When they heard the
distant rush of the night train, they all three went out to see its
great yellow eye come nearer and nearer.

Trenholme had one or two packages to put in the van. He and his
companions exchanged greetings with the men of the train.

Just as he was handing in his last package, a gentlemanly voice accosted
him.

"Station-master!" said a grey-haired, military-looking traveller,
"Station-master! Is there any way of getting milk here?"

A lady stood behind the gentleman. They were both on the platform at the
front of a passenger car.

"It's for a child, you know," explained the gentleman.

Trenholme remembered his untouched tea, and confessed to the possession
of a little milk.

"Oh, hasten, has