He had put certain things down to accidents, those accidents that will beset travelers at times. But now—he wondered.

In the first place, he had nearly missed the train. They had been sitting there, chatting, quite serenely, gazing with slightly amused contempt at those passengers of the breed always doomed to be late for trains. Then the Gordon discovered that a rather special parcel left in the baggage room yesterday (heaven knows why!—the Gorgon seemed the sort of feminine mystery who would do just that sort of thing) had not been retrieved. When the Gorgon mentioned the parcel, the girl Loise had made an exclamation of acute vexation.

Clement was young enough (and she was pretty enough) to seize such an opportunity of doing her service. He said decisively it might be rescued, and he asked crisply, “How much time have we?” 

[Pg 17]

[Pg 17]

It was the Gorgon who had pulled her watch with (now he could see) astonishing celerity. The watch showed that there was a full thirteen minutes to spare before the train went. That was ample. The Gorgon gave him the cloakroom ticket for the parcel. The girl described its nature rather well in one or two words, and she indicated the shelf on which it had been placed.

Clement darted out to the cloakroom, not looking at the station clock, as he should have done. He reached the counter, put the ticket and a large tip on the zinc surface and exhorted the attendant to hurry. The attendant smiled happily at the tip, examined the ticket and said blandly, “Na-poo.” It wasn’t his ticket at all, it was one issued by another station, Victoria.

“Hang!” shouted Clement. “I must get that parcel ... there it is over there.” The girl Loise’s description and directions had helped him out. He told the attendant in vivid language who had left it. He was not kind to the Gorgon, but his picture of her was unmistakable.

“I remember,” said the attendant. “Remember the lady wot was wit’ ’er. A very pretty lady.... All the same, you ain’t got the right ticket.”

“Hang it all, man, don’t argue!” shouted Clement. “I’ve got to catch the boat train....”

And when he said that the attendant had suddenly become very much alive. He snatched at the parcel and swung it over. “’Ave you got to[Pg 18] catch it, well you’ve got to run blame ’ard ter do it. It’s just about going out.”

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