a few evenings later, after a long, tiring day, I returned
to the hotel where I was then staying, and found a telegram awaiting me.
My heart stood still as I saw the ominous yellow envelope, for I knew my
sister would not have sent for me without urgent need. The message was
to say that, although Kitty still hoped for the best, a serious change
had taken place, and I should return at once.

"Don't delay an hour; come off immediately," she said.

I was not likely to delay. I paid up my reckoning at the hotel, directed
that my baggage should be sent on next day, and in less than half an
hour from the time I had opened the telegram I rushed, heated and
breathless, into the primitive little railway station--the only one
which that part of the country boasted for miles round. I gained the
platform in time to see the red light on the end of the departing train
as it disappeared into the mouth of the tunnel a few hundred yards down
the line. For a moment I was unable to realize my ill fortune. I stood
gazing stupidly before me in a bewildered way. Then the station-master,
who knew me by sight, came up, saying sympathetically:--

"Just missed her, sir, by two seconds!"

"Yes," I answered briefly, beginning to understand it all now, and
chafing irritably at the enforced delay. "When is the next train?"

"Six five in the morning, sir. Nothing more to-night."

"Nothing more to-night!" I almost shouted. "There must be! At any rate,
there is the evening express from the junction; I have been by it scores
of times!"

"Very likely, sir; but that's a through train, it don't touch
here--never stops till it reaches the junction."

The man's quiet tone carried conviction with it. I was silent for a
moment, and then asked when the express left the junction.

"Nine fifteen," was the answer.

[Illustration: "THE STATION-MASTER CAME UP."]

"How far is the junction from this by road; could I do it in time?"

"Out of the question, sir. It would take one who knew the road the best
part of three hours to drive."

I looked away to my left, where the green hill-side rose up steep and
clear against the evening sky. It was one of the most mountainous
quarters of England, and the tunnel that pierced the hill was a triumph
of engineering skill, even in these days when science sticks at nothing.
Pointing to the brick archway I said, musingly:--

"And yet, once through the tunnel, how close at hand the junction
station seems."

"That's