The Vanished Messenger | Page 5

fitted out, according to this
evening's paper, somewhere up in the North Sea. The only Englishman
I've spoken to on this side was willing to lay me odds that war would
be declared within a week."
The young man's lack of interest was curious.
"I am not in the army," he said. "It really doesn't affect me."
Mr. Dunster stared at him.
"You'll forgive my curiosity," he said, "but say, is there nothing you
could get into and fight if this thing came along?"
"Nothing at all, that I know of," the youth replied coolly. "War is an
affair which concerns only the military and naval part of two countries.
The civil population -"
"Plays golf, I suppose," Mr. Dunster interrupted. "Young man, I haven't
been in England for some years, and you rather take my breath away.
All the same, you can come along with me as far as Harwich."
The young man showed signs of some satisfaction. "I am very much
obliged to you, sir," he declared. "I promise you I won't be in the way."
The station-master, who had been looking through a little pile of
telegrams brought to him by a clerk from his office, now turned

towards them. His expression was a little grave.
"Your special will be backing down directly, sir," he announced, "but I
am sorry to say that we hear very bad accounts of the line. They say
that this is only the fag-end of the storm that we are getting here, and
that it's been raging for nearly twenty-four hours on the east coast. I
doubt whether the Harwich boat will be able to put off."
"We must take our chance about that," Dunster remarked. "If the mail
boat doesn't run, I presume there will be something else we can
charter."
The station-master looked the curiosity which he did not actually
express in words.
"Money will buy most things, nowadays, sir," he observed, "but if it
isn't fit for our mail boat, it certainly isn't fit for anything else that can
come into Harwich Harbour. However, you'll hear what they say when
you get there."
Mr. Dunster nodded and relapsed into a taciturnity which was
obviously one of his peculiarities. The young man strolled down the
platform, and catching up with the inspector, touched him on the
shoulder.
"Do you know who the fellow is?" he asked curiously. "It's awfully
decent of him to let me go with him, but he didn't seem very keen about
it."
The inspector shook his head.
"No idea, sir," he replied. "He drove up just two minutes after the train
had gone, came straight into the office and ordered a special. Paid for it,
too, in Bank of England notes before he went out. I fancy he's an
American, and he gave his name as John P. Dunster."
The young man paused to light a cigarette.

"If he's an American, I suppose that accounts for it," he observed. "He
must be in a precious hurry to get somewhere, though."
"A night like this, too!" the inspector remarked, with a shiver. "I
wouldn't leave London myself unless I had to. They say there's a
tremendous storm blowing on the east coast. Here comes the train, sir -
just one saloon and the guard's van."
The little train backed slowly along the platform side. The engine was
splashed with mud and soaking wet. The faces of the engine-driver and
his companion shone from the dripping rain. The station-master held
open the door of the saloon.
"You've a rough journey before you, sir," he said. "You'll catch the boat
all right, though - if it goes. The mail train was very heavy to-night.
You should catch her up this side of Colchester."
Mr. Dunster nodded.
"I am taking this young gentleman with me," he announced shortly. "It
seems that he, too, missed the train. I am much obliged to you,
station-master, for your attention. Good night!"
They were about to start when Mr. Dunster once more let down the
window.
"By the way," he said, "as it is such a wild night, you will oblige me
very much if you will tell the engine-driver that there will be a five
pound note for himself and his companion if we catch the mail.
Inspector!"
The inspector touched his hat. The station-master had turned discreetly
away. He had been an inspector himself once, and sovereigns had been
useful to him, too. Then the train glided from the platform side,
plunged with a scream through a succession of black tunnels, and with
rapidly increasing speed faced the storm.
CHAPTER II

The young man sat on one side of the saloon and Mr. John P. Dunster
on the other. Although both of them were provided with a certain
amount of railway literature, neither of them