ad indulged in a grave promenade upon the
platform.

He was walking up and down there now, with his hand in the small of his
back, where of late he had been aware of a constant aching pain. He
was very upright, however, and supremely unconscious of the curiosity
aroused by his presence in the mind of the station canaille. His lips
were rather more troublesome than usual, and his keen eyes twinkled with
a suppressed excitement.

In former days there had been no one equal to him in certain diplomatic
crises where it was a question of brow-beating suavely the uppish
representative of some foreign State. No man could then rival him in the
insolently aristocratic school of diplomacy which England has made
her own. But in his most dangerous crisis he had never been restless,
apprehensive, pessimistic, as he was at this moment. And after all it
was a very simple matter that had brought him there. It was merely the
question of meeting a man as if by accident, and then afterwards making
that man do certain things required of him. Moreover, the man was only
Guy Oscard--learned if you will in forest craft, but a mere child in the
hand of so old a diplomatist as Sir John Meredith.

That which made Sir John so uneasy was the abiding knowledge that Jack's
wedding-day would dawn in twelve hours. The margin was much too small,
through, however, no fault of Sir John's. The West African steamer had
been delayed--unaccountably--two days. A third day lost in the Atlantic
would have overthrown Sir John Meredith's plan. He had often cut things
fine before, but somehow now--not that he was getting old, oh no!--but
somehow the suspense was too much for his nerves. He soon became
irritated and distrustful. Besides the pain in his back wearied him and
interfered with the clear sequence of his thoughts.

The owners of the West African steamer had telegraphed that the
passengers had left for London in two separate trains. Guy Oscard was
not in the first--there was no positive reason why he should be in the
second. More depended upon his being in this second express than Sir
John cared to contemplate.

The course of his peregrinations brought him into the vicinity of an
inspector whose attitude betokened respect while his presence raised
hope.

"Is there any reason to suppose that your train is coming?" he inquired
of the official.

"Signalled now, my lord," replied the inspector, touching his cap.

"And what does that mean?" uncompromisi