What if the time-tables had
been changed? A prayer rose to my lips; there was so much in the
balance. Down this street I ran, rounding this corner and that. I
knocked down a drunken student, who cursed me as he rolled into the
gutter. I never turned, but kept on. One of the mounted police saw me
rushing along. He shaded his eyes for a moment, then called to me to
stop. I swore under my breath.

"Where are you going at such a pace and at this time of morning?" he
demanded.

"To the station. I beg of you not to delay me. I am in a great hurry
to catch the 3:20 south-bound train. If you doubt me, come to the
station with me." An inspiration came to me. "Please see," I added
impressively, "that no one hinders me. I am on the King's business."

"His Majesty's business? Ach! since when has His Majesty chosen an
Englishman to dispatch his affairs? I will proceed with you to the
station."

And he kept his word. When he saw the gateman examine my ticket and
passports and smile pleasantly, he turned on his heel, convinced that
there was nothing dangerous about me. He climbed on his horse and
galloped away. He might have caused me no end of delay, and time meant
everything in a case like mine. Scarcely had I secured a compartment
in a first-class carriage than the wheels groaned and the train rolled
out of the station. My brow was damp; my hands trembled like an
excited woman's. Should I win? I had a broken cigar in my pocket. I
lit the preserved end at the top of the feeble carriage lamp. I had
the compartment alone. Sleep! Not I. Who could sleep when the car
wheels and the rattling windows kept saying, "The innkeeper knows! The
innkeeper knows!" Every stop was a heartache. Ah, those eight hours
were eight separate centuries to me. I looked careworn and haggard
enough the next morning when I stepped on the station platform. I
wanted nothing to eat; not even a cup of coffee to drink.

To find conveyance to the inn was not an easy task. No one wanted to
take the drive. Finally I secured a horse. There was no haggling over
the price. And soon I was loping through the snowdrifts in the
direction of the old inn. The snow whirled and eddied over the stubble
fields; the winds sang past my ears; the trees creaked and the river
flowed on, black and sluggish. It was a dreary scene. It was bitter
cold, but I had no mind for that. On, on I went. Two miles were left
in the rear. The horse was b