traveller. They are such genial, unsuspicious,
open-handed folk. This comes of wandering about the country at other
people's expense."

The 10.15 fast express from the Three Towns to Paddington is an
excellent one, and the journey was not more tedious than five hours
spent in a train are bound to be. All through the journey Dawson, from
behind his stock of papers and magazines, studied Maynard, and became,
not, perhaps shaken in his conviction, but certainly puzzled. "He
looked," he explained to me, "like a sick and sorrowful man. One who
had really lost a beloved mother far away would look just like that.
But so might one who had been unfaithful to a trusting wife and was
now risking his neck to pour gold into the greedy lap of a frowsy
mistress. One must never judge by appearances. A man may look as sick
over backing the wrong horse as at losing an only son in the trenches.
Human means of expression are limited."

"It takes time to learn that you are not such a beast as you pretend,"
I observed. Dawson grinned.

At Paddington Maynard took the Tube to Liverpool Street, and did not
observe that his fellow passenger of the brown tweed suit and the fat,
self-satisfied, rather oily face followed by the same route. Dawson,
who was famished, rejoiced to see Maynard make for the
refreshment-room. He could not lunch on the train, since the workman,
upon whom he attended, had economically fed himself upon sandwiches
put up in a "nosebag."

"No breakfast, no lunch," groaned Dawson. "What a day!" He did his
best during five minutes in the refreshment-room at Liverpool Street
to fill up the howling void in his person, and then watched Maynard
enter a train for Burnham-on-Crouch. In two minutes he had opened up
communications with a station Inspector of Police, made himself known,
and secured the services of a constable to travel in Maynard's
carriage. He did not wish to be seen again himself just at present. He
yearned, too, for a first-class compartment and an ample tea-basket.
Dawson's brain is a martyr to duty, but his stomach continually rises
in rebellion. It was a fast train which would not stop until the Essex
coast was reached, so that Dawson did not doubt that his quarry would
be upon the platform when he himself got out So he was, and so, too,
was a girl in deep mourning who had come to meet him. Dawson was
staggered; a girl, also in funeral blacks, upset the picture which he
had painted to himself. The man and gir