Quick, man, and
there'll be a shilling for you." He had been doing some rapid thinking
these last minutes and had made up his mind. If Dobson and he were
alone in a carriage he could not have the box there; that must be
elsewhere, so that Dobson could not examine it if he were set on
violence, somewhere in which it could still be a focus of suspicion and
attract attention from his person, He took his ticket, and rushed on
to the platform, to find the porter and the box at the door of the
guard's van. Dobson was not there. With the vigour of a fussy
traveller he shouted directions to the guard to take good care of his
luggage, hurled a shilling at the porter, and ran for a carriage. At
that moment he became aware of Dobson hurrying through the entrance. He
must have met Leon and heard news from him, for his face was red and
his ugly brows darkening.

The train was in motion. "Here, you" Dobson's voice shouted. "Stop! I
want a word wi' ye." Dickson plunged at a third-class carriage, for he
saw faces behind the misty panes, and above all things then he feared
an empty compartment. He clambered on to the step, but the handle
would not turn, and with a sharp pang of fear he felt the innkeeper's
grip on his arm. Then some Samaritan from within let down the window,
opened the door, and pulled him up. He fell on a seat, and a second
later Dobson staggered in beside him.

Thank Heaven, the dirty little carriage was nearly full. There were
two herds, each with a dog and a long hazel crook, and an elderly woman
who looked like a ploughman's wife out for a day's marketing. And there
was one other whom Dickson recognized with peculiar joy--the bagman in
the provision line of business whom he had met three days before at
Kilchrist.

The recognition was mutual. "Mr. McCunn!" the bagman exclaimed. "My,
but that was running it fine! I hope you've had a pleasant holiday,
sir?"

"Very pleasant. I've been spending two nights with friends down
hereaways. I've been very fortunate in the weather, for it has broke
just when I'm leaving."

Dickson sank back on the hard cushions. It had been a near thing, but
so far he had won. He wished his heart did not beat so fast, and he
hoped he did not betray his disorder in his face. Very deliberately he
hunted for his pipe and filled it slowly. Then he turned to Dobson, "I
didn't know you were travelling the day. What about your oil-cake?"

"I've changed my mind," was the gru