anger. In the twinkling of an eye he dropped
his slow dignified air, leaped like a panther in front of the goods
engine, caught Mrs Durby with both hands--any how--and hurled her and
himself off the line,--not a moment too soon, for the buffer of the
engine touched his shoulder as they fell together to the ground.

A lusty cheer was given by those on the platform who witnessed this bold
rescue, and more than one sympathetic hand grasped the massive fist of
Joe Turner as he assisted Mrs Durby to a carriage.

"Why," exclaimed Will Garvie, hurrying forward at that moment, "it's
Mrs Durby, the woman we promised to take care of! You'll look after
her, Joe?"

"All right," said the guard, as Will hurried back to his engine; "this
way, ma'am. Got your ticket?"

"N-no!" gasped the poor nurse, leaning heavily on her protector's arm.

"Here, Dick," cried Joe, hailing a porter, "run to the booking-office
and get her a ticket for London, first-class; she's got a bad shake,
poor thing. No doubt the company will stand the difference; if not,
we'll make it up amongst us."

Hereupon a benevolent old gentleman drew out his purse, and insisted on
paying the whole of the fare himself, a point which no one seemed
inclined to dispute, and Mrs Durby was carefully placed by Joe in a
carriage by herself.

There were two gentlemen--also known to the reader--who arrived just in
time to witness this incident: the one was Captain Lee, the other Edwin
Gurwood. They both carried bags and rugs, and were evidently going by
that train. The captain, who happened to have a bad cold at the time,
was muffled up to the eyes in a white worsted comforter, and had a fur
travelling-cap pulled well down on his forehead, so that little of him,
save the point of his nose, was visible.

The moment that the two fops caught sight of Captain Lee, they whispered
to Thomson--

"That's our man."

"Sure?" demanded Thomson.

"Quite," replied Smith. "That's about the size and make of the man as
described to me. Of course they could not tell what sort of travelling
gear he would appear in, but there's no mistaking the bag--old, stout
leather, with flat handle-strap."

"All right," said Thomson; "but who's the young fellow with him?"

"Don't know," replied Smith; "yet I think I've seen his face before.
Stay, Jenkins, wasn't he in the accident at Langrye station?"

"Perhaps he was; but it's of no consequence to us."

"It will be of consequence to us i