will be something new."

He entered Euston station at a quarter to five. A sleepy ticket-clerk
told him that the first train went at five-seven, and asked whither he
meant to travel. "Oh, give me a ticket that costs five shillings," said
Tony: "I don't much care. No, dear fellow, I'm not mad, and I've not
been drinking. A five-bob ticket, please."

The clerk complied with an ill-used air. Tony received his ticket and
went to find the train. As he laid his hand on the door of a first-class
compartment it occurred to him to look at the ticket. It was a
third-class. Instead of being annoyed, Tony laughed. "A night of
thrills!" he murmured:

"I haven't traveled third for years. Is there any chance of my having
fellow travelers? I should doubt it."

There were some ten minutes before the train was due to start, and Tony
occupied the time in looking out of the window. There was not much to
engage his attention, save a few porters handling newspapers and other
parcels, but presently a man appeared making for the train. Tony glanced
at him with a languid curiosity. The newcomer was dressed in a correct
morning suit and silk hat. He also carried gloves and a stick. But
though he looked like a gentleman and carried himself with an air,
Tony's eye detected signs of poverty. The coat was shiny, and the hat,
though carefully brushed, had little luster. "What the deuce is he doing
here at this time, and in such clothes?" thought Tony. Then he burst
into a noiseless laugh. "The pot and kettle!" he reflected, chuckling:
"I had forgotten that I am still in evening dress!"

He sank back in the seat to laugh at himself more thoroughly, and the
man in the silk hat passed by the window. He made his way into the next
compartment, and unfortunately there was no corridor. Tony was debating
whether or not it was worth while to get out and join the stranger on
the off chance of learning something new, when the whistle went. But
before the train had begun to move, a face appeared at the opposite
window. A man was climbing up the footboard from the line. The next
moment the door was opened, the man entered, shut the door behind him
and sat down. He was a man of some fifty years, dressed rather oddly.
His bowler hat and overcoat were good, but he wore no collar. Tony
looked at him contentedly; after all, this walk was producing
experiences.

"Good morning," he said mildly: "do you usually enter a train on the off
side? I ask merely from vulg