The Vanished Messenger | Page 7

I fancy they'll lie by there
until the morning. The best thing that I can see is, if you're agreeable, to
take you back to London. We can very likely do that all right, if we
start at once."
Mr. Dunster, ignoring the man's suggestion, drew from one of the
voluminous pockets of his ulster a small map. He spread it open upon
the table before him and studied it attentively.
"If I cannot get to Harwich," he asked, "is there any possibility of
keeping straight on and reaching Yarmouth?"
The guard hesitated.
"We haven't heard anything about the line from Ipswich to Norwich,
sir," he replied, "but we can't very well change our course without
definite instructions."

"Your definite instructions," Mr. Dunster reminded him drily, "were to
take me to Harwich. You have been forced to depart from them. I see
no harm in your adopting any suggestions I may have to make
concerning our altered destination. I will pay the extra mileage,
naturally."
"How far did you wish to go, sir?" the guard enquired.
"To Yarmouth," Mr. Dunster replied firmly. "If there are bridges down,
and communication with Harwich is blocked, Yarmouth would suit me
better than anywhere."
The guard shook his head.
"I couldn't go on that way, sir, without instructions."
"Is there a telegraph office at this station?" Mr. Dunster inquired.
"We can speak anywhere on the line," the guard replied.
"Then wire to the station-master at Liverpool Street," Mr. Dunster
instructed. "You can get a reply from him in the course of a few
minutes. Explain the situation and tell him what my wishes are."
The guard hesitated.
"It's a goodish way from here to Norwich," he observed, "and for all we
know -"
"When we left Liverpool Street Station," Mr. Dunster interrupted, "I
promised five pounds each to you, the engine-driver, and his mate. That
five pounds shall be made twenty-five if you succeed in getting me to
the coast. Do your best for me."
The guard raised his hat and departed without another word.
"It will probably suit you better," Mr. Dunster continued, turning to his
companion, "to leave me at Ipswich and join the mail."

The latter shook his head.
"I don't see that there's any chance, anyway, of my getting over in time
now," he remarked. "If you'll take me on with you as far as Norwich, I
can go quietly home from there!"
"You live in this part of the world, then?" Mr. Dunster asked.
The young man assented. Again there was a certain amount of
hesitation in his manner.
"I live some distance the other side of Norwich," he said. "I don't want
to sponge on you too much," he went on, "but if you're really going to
stick it out and try and get there, I'd like to go on, too. I am afraid I
can't offer to share the expense, but I'd work my passage if there was
anything to be done."
Mr. Dunster drummed for a moment upon the table with his fingers. All
the time the young man had been speaking, his eyes had been studying
his face. He turned now once more to his map.
"It was my idea," he said, "to hire a steam trawler from Yarmouth. If I
do so, you can, if you wish, accompany me so far as the port at which
we may land in Holland. On the other hand, to be perfectly frank with
you, I should prefer to go alone. There will be, no doubt, a certain
amount of risk in crossing to-night. My own business is of importance.
A golf tournament, however, is scarcely worth risking your life for, is
it?"
"Oh, I don't know about that!" the young man replied grimly. "I fancy I
should rather like it. Let's see whether we can get on to Norwich,
anyhow, shall we? We may find that there are bridges down on that
line."
They relapsed once more into silence. Presently the guard reappeared.
"Instructions to take you on to Yarmouth, if possible, sir," he
announced, "and to collect the mileage at our destination."

"That will be quite satisfactory," Mr. Dunster agreed. "Let us be off,
then, as soon as possible." Presently they crawled on. They passed the
boat train in Ipswich Station, where they stayed for a few moments. Mr.
Dunster bought wine and sandwiches, and his companion followed his
example. Then they continued their journey. An hour or more passed;
the storm showed no signs of abatement. Their speed now rarely
exceeded ten or fifteen miles an hour. Mr. Dunster smoked all the time,
occasionally rubbing the window-pane and trying to look out. Gerald
Fentolin slept fitfully.
"Have you any idea where we are?" Mr. Dunster asked once.
The boy cautiously let down the window a little way. With